Of Western Stars
by neutral
Summary: [complete] Sirius comes across a picture of Harry five years into his imprisonment, and decides to see his godson at all costs. But when he finds Harry neglected and abused, he makes a decision that entangles them both in more troubles than ever before
1. of blurry pictures

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n a strange title? Well, it was suppose to be 'Of all the Western Stars' but that seemed unnecessarily long. It's named after a verse by Tennyson,   
  
_  
"'T is not too late to seek a newer world.  
Push off, and sitting well in order smite  
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds  
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths  
Of all the western stars, until I die…  
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will  
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."  
_-Ulysses by Alfred Lord Tennyson   
  
  
which seemed to reflect Sirius' goal quite well, his desire to succeed, his impatience, and the injustice against him.   
  
  


_ Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
  
  
_

**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter one - of blurry pictures   
  
  
  
It was cold.   
  
An icy cold that creped under your skin and snapped your veins one by one. It twisted the very flesh in your body and froze bones stiff. It exuded from every inch of the walls, and one by one, gripped the minds of its prisoners and dragged them into oblivion.   
  
But one man was different. He was silent, watching the others with clouded blue eyes with something akin to boredom. Ever now and then, his face would contort in anger and rage like the others, but he would always calm down again and return to his watching. But then, one day, he just stopped.   
  
Sirius had been deaf and blind to the world around him for the past few days; he hadn't eaten, he hadn't slept. He stared at a crumpled page of newspaper, only a few days old, but frequent handling had worn it into a dull, faded brown. He gripped it so tightly that his fingers were white and trembling, clutching it as if it were a lifeline.   
  
A faded picture was barely discernable. It was an image of a boy, only six years of age but looking years younger, with untamed hair and brilliant green eyes. He was short and thin for his age, looking smaller than he really was in oversized clothes. He sat on a secluded park bench, face away from the camera as if he was looking for someone. Then, slowly, he turned around to stare back at the man, eyes wide but oddly shy.   
  
Sirius smiled, running his fingers lightly over the blurred picture.   
  
"Harry," he whispered, his voice hoarse and raw with disuse. "Do you still remember me?"   
  
Harry didn't respond, only continuing to stare back at him innocently. But Sirius only smiled wider. It was a rare luck that such a picture came to him. The Minister, during his tour of the prison grounds, offered the stack of newspaper to him at his request. It was only when he was flipping through it, did he notice a small article on the second page with a fuzzy image. Someone had taken a picture, and belatedly discovered a small boy in the background.   
  
**

  
The Boy Who Lived spotted in a muggle park   
  


**  
The article had captured him immediately, and Sirius read it so many times that he could recite it in his sleep. Harry had been sighted, despite all the effort that Dumbledore took to keep him hidden from the magical community. His exact whereabouts where unknown, but Sirius knew exactly where he was. How could he forget, after all the times Lily had pointed out her sister's house on the map with a slightly hurt smile?   
  
Now, Sirius wanted nothing more than to be there, with the little boy in the deserted park. He would give everything he still had just to sit beside him for a few short minutes. Sirius smiled, running his fingers over the picture again.   
  
A new person suddenly burst into the frame, a fat man with an overflowing stomach. He stomped over the grass with a demeanor that exuded impatience, disgust, and arrogance. Sirius blinked in surprise; over the past few hours that he stared at it, he had never seen the man. Harry instantly froze with fear, and the man clamped a round hand harshly over the boy's frail arm. He tugged him off the bench, walking so quickly that Harry fell and dragged across the grass, the two disappearing from the picture.   
  
Sirius growled, an angry boiling inside him hotter than anything he could remember. His grasp tightened over the picture, straining it so hard that it ripped in half. Sirius flung the remains on the ground, turning towards the window of his cell. He shook the unyielding bars with a mad desperation.   
  
"Let me out!" he shouted. But his voice was lost with the others. "Let me out. Let me out! Let me out!!"   
  
  
  
  
  
Sirius took several unsteady steps forward, the entire world swaying in his vision. The water from the river still clung to his fur, and no matter how hard he shook himself, he could still feel the dampness against his skin. Strange, even in Akzaban, he never felt this cold.   
  
But the moment he stepped onto the dry shore, Sirius felt a burst of euphoria flood his senses. It was like the first time he rode on a broom. He drew a deep breath, the air clean and fresh for the first time in six years. Sirius laughed, a strange sound for a dog to produce, but he laughed nevertheless. He was free!   
  
Sirius made a small leap of joy, but instantly his weak limbs trembled under the weight. He tired to stay standing, but he knew he was fighting a losing battle. The strain of swimming across the river was hitting him harder than ever. But Sirius forced his legs to move, the canine paws tingling with the strange sensation of finally moving after years of lethargy.   
  
He wasn't sure how long he walked, his mind was a smudge of muffled thoughts and his vision was growing darker by the minute. But the next time he dragged himself into perception, he was nearing a patch of black where the grass abruptly stopped. Large boxes on wheels were lined side by side. On closer inspection, Sirius realized they were trucks, still in the process of loading with their back compartments open.   
  
"Where's this one to?"   
  
Sirius snapped around, instinctively pulling back in the shadows. A man drifted into view, reeking so strongly of cigarettes that Sirius' acute senses made him sneeze.   
  
"Little Whinging," said another gruffly. "And you better not get lost this time. That was the most pathetic thing I ever…"   
  
_ … Little Whinging …   
  
_ Sirius smiled.   
  
  
  
  
  
A little boy too small to be six and a half years of age sat in the middle of a deserted park, his legs dangling some distance from the ground from his position on the bench. His eyes were an unusual emerald green, his hair stood in every direction imaginable. His clothes were tattered and worn and looked like they belonged someone as wide as he was tall, but certainly not to the thin child.   
  
Most children would be chattering nosily or swinging their legs impatiently as they sat, but Harry was perfectly still. He fingered the bag of cat food sitting beside him, trying to debate whether or not he should go back to Mrs. Figg. The Dursleys were out that day, and they left him with the senile old woman. She had sent him out with some money for supplies the moment he arrived, but now, he was hesitant to return. Mrs. Figg was not very comfortable company.   
  
The wind rustled the leaves gently, ruffling his hair as it brushed past.   
  
Abruptly, Harry stood. There was something drawing him to the bushes behind the bench; invisible hands guiding him. Harry pushed past a tall row of shrubs, and stilled.   
  
A large dog, probably as large as himself, with dirty and tangled coal black fur, laid in a patch of grass secluded from sight. Even through the long, thick fur, Harry could make out the ridges of the animal's ribs and the skinniness of its frame. Instinct told him that he should be afraid of large, unfamiliar dogs, but somehow, Harry couldn't ignore a strange sense of familiarity that exuded from it. He knew it somehow. The dog wouldn't hurt him.   
  
"Umm… hello?" Harry said softly, feeling a bit foolish. But he hadn't met many dogs before, and he really didn't know what else to say. He approached it tentatively, laying a small hand on its muzzle.   
  
The dog flinched under his touch, jolting awake and lips drawn back in growl. Harry scrambled to his feet, suddenly feeling very much afraid. But the dog froze when it caught sight of him, eyes widening with something akin to surprise. For a long time, it never stirred, examining Harry's face with human-like fascination. But to a little boy faced with a dog almost his height, it was unnerving. All the calm familiarity of the animal vanished the instant the dog awoke.   
  
_ It's going to eat me!_ Harry thought desperately as he took a step back.   
  
Cautiously, the dog took a step forward. With a burst of fear and desperation, Harry spun around, scuttling for the safety of the park. But a brusque force knocked into him, throwing him against the ground. Harry's already fragile glasses dislodged from his face and everything blurred into a wild smear of black. Harry made a strangled noise, groping blindly for his glasses.   
  
But he almost cried out when the world came back into focus. The dog was right above him, one of his paws against his shoulder pinned him the grass. Its face breathing heavily near his, razor sharp teeth flashing in the light. He trashed weakly, but the dog was too strong. It lowered it's head and Harry tensed.   
  
_ It was going to eat him! He was going to die!   
  
_ Harry whimpered, bringing his hands over his face defensively.   
  
Any normal seven year old would be screaming, but the years of confinement and neglect trained him never to cry out. Harry shut his eyes tightly, anticipating the pain.   
  
A soft pressure against his forehead. The touch was warm and gentle, oddly reminiscent of the affectionate touch of a parent.   
  
Harry's eyes snapped open. The dog stared down at him, lips pulled back in what looked suspiciously like a smile. It nudged his cheek and whined.   
  
Harry watched it in bewilderment. "You're not going to kill me?" he asked shakily.   
  
The dog made a low growl in his throat, and Harry impulsively drew himself into a tight ball. But he was surprised when the weight on his shoulder disappeared, the dog backing away. Harry pulled himself into a sitting position, scooting against the trunk of a tree, eyes wide. The animal whined again and wagged his tail, trying hard to look harmless. Timidly, it moved forward, resting its shaggy head against Harry's shoulder and turning its strange blue eyes to him.   
  
Harry was stiff, the recent shock still running through his mind. He flinched when the dog pressed its moist muzzle against his cheek. Gritting his teeth, Harry mentally braced himself for the familiar pain that came all too often.   
  
"No! Stay away!" Harry choked out desperately, covering his face with his hands.   
  
The dog drew back as if burned. Harry scrambled to his feet, and without looking back, fled.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
Short, short chapter. And not very well written. I have a very, very, very, very hard time with characterizing a seven year-old. Do you remember how you thought at seven years old? Urg!! Bad chapter bad writing. ACK!   
  
Is this story making any sense? I was afraid the beginning had just too much descriptions that bogged down the entire plot.   
  



	2. of comings and goings

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter two - of comings and goings   
  
  
  
Just then, Sirius wanted nothing more than to transform back into a human and run after the retreating child. But discretion caught up with him just in time; what would Harry think? Wouldn't he be horrified to find a strange man who looked like he had been through hell and back, suddenly rush at him?   
  
Sirius was in a daze after Harry left, eyes unfocused and unseeing. He watched the place where last stood, feeling his stomach sink and twist with desperation. The urge was too strong, to run after his godson and spill his entire story. But Harry was so innocent, so naïve. Would he accept it? Would he believe it?   
  
Sirius cringed inwardly, remembering the image of his godson, eyes squeezed tight and hands raised defensively over him was burned into his eyelids. He had been so frightened…   
  
Harry ran from him. Harry was afraid of him.   
  
He had never expected, never dreamed, that his godson would fear him.   
  
Sirius shut his eyes, trying to block the childish voice, clouded with fear and confusion. Harry had crumpled under his glare almost as if he had been anticipating pain. Most children would have wailed and protested, but Harry was disturbingly silent, almost… accepting. And with the bones that protruded from his shoulder and the cheekbones that stood out, Sirius couldn't help but wonder about the kind of treatment he received from the Dursleys. Harry was nothing like the outgoing and energetic James that he had expected seeing, but did he really expect such a child after seeing his picture on the newspaper? With that pale and sickly frame, he just seemed to scream neglect.   
  
Sirius growled, low in his throat. If those muggles touched one hair on his godson's head, he would shred them all to pieces. Forget about another life sentence, it would be worth it. Bitterly, Sirius grinded his paws against the earth.   
  
_ Harry wasn't happy…   
  
_ Somehow, just seeing his godson opened rather than healed wounds. Harry's wild hair and round rimmed glasses was just too reminiscent of James. His best friend's face seemed to accuse him of all the promises he fell short of fulfilling.   
  
_ Look what happened to my son, _James seemed to say. _Look what happened to him when you condemned his parents to an early grave._   
  
With a rueful whine, Sirius laid back down. It was his fault James and Lily died. It was his fault that Harry suffered. It was all his fault! And Harry was the one person he had a chance to redeem himself. Sirius sighed, hoping beyond hope that he would be able to find Harry again.   
  
Just seeing Harry wasn't enough, Sirius needed to speak to him. He had to.   
  
  
  
  
  
Harry shuddered when he approached the park bench, nervously searching for the dog. He shot forward hurriedly, retrieved the bag of forgotten cat food, and rushed back to the sidewalk as fast as he could. He had been hopelessly embarrassed when he rushed back to Mrs. Figg without her groceries. He would never hear the end of it if she told the Dursleys. Mrs. Figg didn't seem to mind all that much, but Harry tortured himself over it. Still, it was several hours before he even found the courage to return.   
  
The memory of the dog still haunted him. The odd, pale blue eyes framed with long, coal black fur. Its razor sharp teeth grazing his shoulder as it sniffed at his face. But there was a nagging doubt in the back of his mind. The dog, was it really evil? It didn't hurt him. It licked his face. It liked him!   
  
_ But it was large. It looked like it was going to eat him…_ Harry protested silently in his mind.   
  
Yes, but it didn't do anything. Harry brushed his hand against his cheek where the dog had nudged him. He couldn't help but feel drawn to the large black dog somehow. It was as if they had met before. There was the comforting familiarity of it; Harry couldn't help but pocket a few slices of left over pie, belatedly realizing that he had saved it for the starved dog.   
  
_ Shouldn't I be afraid of it?_ Harry wondered.   
  
_ But perhaps it was really, really hungry. Maybe it would be nicer after it ate.   
  
_ Unconsciously, Harry scanned the deserted park for the large shaggy animal. He walked quietly to the dreaded line of shrubs, but it was dragging him like a moth to a flame. Harry pushed the branches aside.   
  
It was empty.   
  
Harry's heart sank. He wasn't sure why he felt so disappointed, its absence was just painful. Harry examined the large paw prints the dog left in its wake, trailing away. Chewing his lip in disappointment, Harry pulled the pie from his oversized pocket, wrapped in cloth. He placed it in the most obvious place he could find. Shoulders slumped in defeat, Harry picked his way back to the park, throwing one last glance at the shroud of bushes.   
  
  
  
  
  
"He what?!" Remus stood up sharply, knocking his tattered chair to the floor.   
  
Dumbledore sighed, closing his eyes wearily. He seemed out of place in Remus' small living room, his flawless blue robes contrasting against the pieces of ill-used furniture. The remains of a couch were scattered near his feet and a coffee table laid on its side.   
  
"Sirius escaped," he repeated.   
  
"But how? Isn't that impossible?" Remus choked out. The recent full moon had taken its toll on him; his skin was ghastly pale and his entire frame shook with exhaustion. But this news was rapidly draining whatever energy he had left.   
  
"Obviously it isn't," Dumbledore said, voice deceptively calm. His mouth was set in a grim line, and his blue eyes burned with cold fury.   
  
"But with the dementors, he should be insane," Remus continued desperately. But his voice betrayed how much it cost him even admitting to those words. He took several unsteady steps back when the floor seemed to sway dangerously.   
  
"Sirius was unaffected." Dumbledore said slowly, looking just as tired as the werewolf for the briefest of moments. "He had escaped four days ago, with this found in his cell."   
  
Dumbledore held out a faded newsprint picture, shredded ruthlessly in half, but Remus recognized it instantly. His eyes widened, and would have fallen on the floor if Dumbledore hadn't caught his arm and guided him to a chair.   
  
"Harry's picture…," Remus whispered hoarsely. "How did he get it?"   
  
"Nobody is sure, but they say he's memorized the news article. Harry's safety is now our top concern. Fudge is still trying to scavenge his reputation; he's trying to hush up Sirius' escape as much as possible," Dumbledore's eyes flashed dangerously. "The security around him isn't going to increase. Fudge is trying to tell everyone that it is perfectly adequate. With luck, Sirius is still another week's walk to Little Whinging. Since he is without a wand, we still have some time."   
  
"Sirius wants to kill Harry? His own godson… it's still hard to believe," Remus trailed off, sinking into the chair weakly. The mention of those years reopened barely healed scars that sent flashes of raw pain. Remus ran a tired hand over his face. He had spent so many years trying to run and hide from the past…   
  
Dumbledore looked to his former student sympathetically for a moment. "Remus, I know this will be hard."   
  
Remus snapped back into focus. His face darkened, "Dumbledore, are you planning something?"   
  
"The protection around Harry will need to be raised, and as you know, the wards may not have an affect on Sirius since he does not have a wand. We need to send someone…"   
  
Remus was silent, his eyes fixed unblinkingly in front of him. His expression was restrained, years of discrimination had beaten that into him.   
  
"I have already set up arrangements with Arabella. We need to place another person there, with her posing as an old lady isn't going to be enough. We need someone who understands Sirius and someone who Harry will be able to trust," Dumbledore said as he carefully gauged Remus for a reaction.   
  
"You want me to go," Remus said simply.   
  
"Both Arabella and I think it is the best. The final decision is your own."   
  
Remus swallowed uneasily. Going to Harry would mean facing the pain that he tried to forget for five years, but it was James son…   
  
Remus' eyes narrowed in determination. "I'll do it."   
  
Dumbledore smiled sadly.   
  
But the resolve in the younger man's grey eyes darkened into doubt. Remus chewed his lip, looking up at the headmaster uneasily. "Dumbledore, but what about my…"   
  
"There's really nothing we can do about that," Dumbledore murmured with a sigh. "We've arranged it so that Severus will be able to prepare some Wolfsbane for you each month and you can spend each full moon by apparating back to Hogwarts. We can spare you a room."   
  
Uncertainty was obvious in Remus' face, but he nodded slightly, eyes downcast.   
  
"Arabella's going to take you in as her nephew. You're going to pose as a teacher," Dumbledore explained.   
  
Remus frowned. "Teacher? But the muggle elementary schools already ended for the summer."   
  
Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling for the first time. "Have you ever played soccer, Remus?"   
  
  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
  
  
  
This is another very short chapter. Urg. Sorry! Remus seems a bit weak doesn't he? But hey, lets cut him some slack. Nothing much is established in this chapter, it's a slow transition. So far, considering how much I planned out, I'm guessing this is going to be about 15 chapters. Ack! Moppet, look what you did!   
  
SasseeSam - yeah, Sirius seems to always get the short end of the stick! But its still frightening for a seven year old to get pounced by a dog his own size.   
  
Lady Foxfire - yes, I will! It's just that, these chapters seems so choppy and short. Ack!   
  
Black Sparkles - I will!   
  
Mihoshe - thanks! I'm glad you liked it! I hope this chapter isn't too short, but the next chapter doesn't really tie into it well.   
  
Ithica - I'm glad you like it! I hope I don't disappoint you *hides*   
  
Seeker-2000 - really? Wow! I'm flattered. Thank you!!   
  
SiriusBPadfoot - yes! Or as soon as I can. I'm nearing AP tests and I won't be able to spit them out as fast as before. Urg! With the recent computer virius and everything. I'm glad you liked this one! Its not nearly as exciting though… *sighs dejectedly*   
  
Evie - really? Really? Really? Wow… it didn't seem… choppy or anything? Weighed down? Or overused idea? *scratches head nervously*   
  
Prongsjr - thanks!!   
  
Linsday - I can't say! *grins* that's a secret, but I am a big fan of Sirius and Harry godfather godson ish type things, so…   
  
Lisa - thanks!!   
  
Vmr - I will!   
  
Kugel - I will!! I really will try to complete this.   
  
Bec - that's great encouragement! I'm glad you liked it. I was a bit worried that Harry didn't seem like the seven year-old and… urg… the plot was too rushed or something. *sighs*   
  
Keara Jordan - wow! Little brothers? How many and how old? I'm the onlie, so I really have no clue how kids act.   
  
Lassy D. - thank you!!   
  
Nicky - that's a secret! *grins*   
  
Kat - I'm not saying! *cackles*   
  
Jayde - really? Dogs are actually quite nice if you don't run. Of course… I didn't know that when I was younger in front of a black lab. *laughs nervously*   
  
Catspook - I donnuo. I think it's because writers are the most critical of their own work. I'm glad you like it though.   
  
MercS - ouch!! That must have really hurt, the fever, the pains, urg… ok, this was from the review from Cheating Death, but still! Ouch… Tell her to get well soon from me! Yeah, especially since Padfoot's suspicious of how Harry's treated at home. He's all frustrated and angry now.   
  
Gwen - *cackle* that'll be interesting!   
  
Erin Finnlaith - *backs away nervously* I will, I really will!   
  
Moppet Poppet - uhh…. Are you… alright? *takes away the cigar*   
  
Allocin - really? Wow… you know, it's really tempting to upload a horrible cliffy and announce that that story will be discontinued. But… I'm not that evil… yet *laughs evilly*   
  



	3. of cold baths and flowery soaps

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
I debated over Harry's age with myself for about 2 days before finally settling on early seven. I'm still debating now… I mean… I sort of wanted Harry to be young enough to be childishly innocent, but still old enough to understand what's going on and what's right and wrong. Five is way too young for a child to even retain his memories (although some may think otherwise, but that's what my biology book says anyway). Eight seems a bit mature. I really wanted to make him six though… and I still do. It gives Sirius one year less in Azkanban and one year more to spend with his godson. But some of the things Harry says seems too mature for a six year-old, right? Urg! I don't know. What do you think?   
  
Should Harry be six or seven? Ack!!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars  
** By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter three - of cold baths   
  
  
  
A dog sat with his head on his paws, gazing at the park bench eagerly. Footsteps alerted him, and Sirius jumped to his feet, lips pulled back in a human-like smile.   
  
A little boy walked quickly down the sidewalk; his face brightened the moment it caught sight of him and bounded over in long strides.   
  
"You're still here?" Harry asked breathlessly, giving the dog a fond pat of the head. Harry loved scratching his ears even though he had to practically stand on his toes to reach.   
  
Sirius whined, licking his hand affectionately. That was the first question Harry always asked every time he came; that seemed to be his greatest nightmare. He fought the urge to transform back and spill his whole story. But Sirius couldn't help but wonder what would happen if Harry fled again. He couldn't risk losing his godson forever.   
  
It was a tremendous relief when Sirius came back from his unsuccessful search five days ago to find three slices of apple pie waiting for him in the shroud of bushes. Harry's scent, a strange mix of wet grass and old cupboards, was still fresh in the air. Even though the pie tasted suspiciously like Hagrid's rock cakes, Sirius couldn't help the bubbling feeling of warmth in the back of his mind. Since then, Harry visited daily, always with a bag of food at his side.   
  
"I have cookies," Harry said as he pulled a crumpled bundle from his pocket. "The baker lady gave it to me when I was picking up food for Dudley."   
  
He placed the sheet of tissue, decorated with broken crumbs of chocolate chip cookies, in front of Sirius and watched him expectantly. Sirius inwardly sighed, Harry probably had no idea chocolate was poisonous to dogs. Luckily, Harry was attempting to feed an animagus, otherwise the results would be disastrous.   
  
"Oh wait!" Harry dug around in his oversized pockets again, fishing out another oily bag. "I have a piece of toast I saved from breakfast. Sorry it's a bit burnt, but it was the only thing I could get."   
  
He held it out, and Sirius stared mutely in amazement. No matter how many times Harry brought him food, he was still stunned by the selflessness of the six and a half year-old. It was obviously hard for the boy to even eat enough, but every day, he brought at least something. A thick slice of cheese one day, ten strips of overcooked bacon another; once Harry even brought a whole twelve inch long subway sandwich that made Sirius seriously wonder about the boy's morals (did he steal that thing?!). But no matter how much he brought, Harry himself never ate. Sirius swallowed past a constricted throat; soon, he was going to be like Hagrid, blubbering at every little thing.   
  
"You don't like toast?" Harry asked, noticing his hesitation with some disappointment.   
  
Sirius quickly took a bite of the hardened bread.   
  
Harry looked at him doubtfully. "You don't have to eat it if you don't like it. I can get you something from Mrs. Figg's."   
  
Sirius froze.   
  
_ Figg? Arabella Figg?! What was his old potion's teacher doing here? No doubt to watch over Harry._   
  
Sirius shook his head and began devouring the toast as fast as he could without choking before starting on the cookies.   
  
"No, don't worry, she won't see you! Mrs. Figg is at the train station meeting someone today, so her house is empty. The Dursleys didn't know that when they dropped me off though…," Harry trailed off when Sirius shot him a reproving glare. "Is something wrong?"   
  
Sirius' parental instincts were kicking in; that was dangerous for a six year-old to stay in a house alone. What was he thinking? He gave Harry a light nip on the hand to show his disapprovement.   
  
Harry missed his thoughts by a mile. "You need a bath," he said, fingering Sirius' long fur when it brushed against his arm. He's face suddenly brightened. "We can use Mrs. Figg's hose in her backyard!"   
  
Sirius grunted and instantly began backing away as far as possible. As inviting as a bath may sound, going to Arabella's was the last thing he wanted.   
  
"Hey, no! You have to! You really smell, come on!" Harry gripped a handful of fur and began tugging as hard as he could. "No one will see you, I swear! She won't be back until late. Please?"   
  
Harry looked at him pleadingly with wide green eyes, his childish face heart-wrenchingly innocent. Sirius paused; who could resist that? He could feel his resolve rapidly dissertating. To risk getting caught, or to risk disappointing his godson? Sirius sighed defeatedly.   
  
  
  
  
  
Several blocks and several strange looks later, Sirius found himself trotting after a tiny six year-old that was the same height as he. Harry seemed extremely self conscious about the expressions of others; he hid his face in his fur every time someone threw an inquiring glare their way. It was amusing in a way, although he never imagined James' son to be shy. But it was still rewarding to know that Harry found his presence comforting.   
  
Sirius followed the younger child to a nondescript house that reeked of cats and cabbages. Sirius wrinkled his nose. But Harry either didn't notice or didn't care; he pushed the yard door open and hauled Sirius in behind him.   
  
"I hope you don't mind cold water or cat shampoo," Harry said as he reached for the hose.   
  
Sirius shifted uneasily, throwing suspicious glances at the house. It was obviously empty, as was the poorly maintained garden, but he couldn't relax knowing that the risk of being taken away stood stronger than ever.   
  
A sudden douse of icy water tore him from his thoughts. Canine senses kicking in, Sirius shook his fur hard.   
  
"Hey!"   
  
Sirius paused when he realized Harry was probably right beside him. Turning around, he gave the boy a sheepish grin. Harry blinked back in mute surprise, glasses plastered with grimy water and clothes splattered with mud. The hose was laying on the floor, flooding a dried flowerbed.   
  
Sirius whined, wagging his tail.   
  
Harry pouted. "No, bad boy! Don't do that!"   
  
Sirius' jaw dropped.   
  
_ Bad boy?! He was his godfather!   
  
_ He glared at the younger boy indignantly, but all protests were dashed from his mind when Harry lifted the running hose directly over his head. The long thick fur stuck to his face and completely screened his eyes. Sirius fought the urge to shake the water out of his fur, mentally wondering if he should be furious or grateful at the boy.   
  
"Stay still, okay?" Harry's voice came somewhere off to the right.   
  
The constant stream of water was gone, replaced by a clump of something cold and sticky. He found feel a small hand rubbing his head, and the distinct aroma of shampoo reached his nose.   
  
_ Flowers?!   
  
_ Sirius sneezed, scowling in distaste. Of all the fragrances that Harry could have found, he chooses flowers?   
  
Sirius shook his fur furiously, sending plops of foam and water flying through the air. Harry made a muffled noise of protest, shielding his face with his hands.   
  
"Hey, no!"   
  
Harry caught on to Sirius' neck tightly, dumping half a bottle of soap on his back in the process. His glasses askew, his shirt completely soaked, he began scrubbing the dog's fur with a vengeance. Sirius made a face, trying to escape, but the child had a surprisingly strong grip. Nevertheless, Harry's expression was amusing, but frighteningly reminiscent of James through the times whenever Sirius had teased him. Perhaps it was the memories of his childhood returning, or perhaps it was just the relief of finally being able to be with his godson; without thinking, Sirius clamped his teeth over the hose at his feet and sprayed Harry's face with ice cold water.   
  
"What…?"   
  
Harry's next words were lost in a muffled splutter when he caught a mouth full of water. He jumped away, but the wet grass was slippery beneath his feet; he fell, nearly dragging Sirius with him. Sirius dropped the hose immediately, a bit worried that Harry was hurt. He nudged the boy's shoulder gently, but was completely caught off guard when Harry spun around and threw a handful of shampoo right at his head.   
  
Sirius gaped.   
  
Harry laughed. His face was lit, his eyes brightened, his smile was positively contagious. The first laugh Sirius heard since he met him three days ago, and sounded so much like James that Sirius had to catch and remind himself.   
  
"Bad dog!" Harry reprimanded lightly, sitting up and reaching for the hose again.   
  
Sirius whined, wiping his soapy fur against the boy's messy hair. Harry groaned, wiping his thickly fogged glasses against his shirt but only managed to smudge it more with mud. Sirius grinned triumphantly.   
  
It became war within minutes, with Harry scrambling for safety as Sirius splattered mud and soap over the boy's shirt. He trapped his godson at a corner and discovered, quite by accident, that Harry was hopelessly ticklish. All he needed to do was nudge his neck or ribs for the boy to squirm and burst into laughter. He mercilessly tortured Harry for the better part of half a hour.   
  
"Stop! Stop. St…" Harry broke into another fit of laughter.   
  
Sirius stopped, graciously waiting for him to catch his breath. Harry, taking the opportunity to scramble for safety, twisted around to try to get up. But when Sirius jabbed him lightly in the ribs, he went down again almost choking with mirth.   
  
"Padfoot!" Harry chided weakly.   
  
Sirius froze.   
  
_ Padfoot? That's… impossible.   
  
_ Harry drew several deep breaths when the game seemed to have ended with the dog's hesitation. He blinked in confusion. "Where did that come from? I don't know why I called you that, you just seem…" he glanced at Sirius questioningly. "familiar somehow. Can I call you that?"   
  
Sirius stared at Harry in disbelief. His godson remembered him! It was too much to hope for. Sirius sat down beside the boy, resting his head on his shoulder with lips pulled back in a grin.   
  
Harry smiled widely, but it dropped when he raised his eyes to examine the state of the yard.   
  
"Oh no…"   
  
Sirius sat up quickly, stomach plummeting. Arabella's garden was, in short, a disaster. Globs of soap and foam littered the grass, the soil completely flooded. The flowers were crushed, the windows were muddy. Sirius swallowed back guilt, mentally hitting himself; Harry was going to be in trouble because of him…   
  
He looked at Harry for a reaction, who had gone still and silent beside him. Harry visibly paled. He stood up quickly, entire back and a good portion of his face spotted with mud, and instantly began to bring as much order back to the garden as possible.   
  
"Mrs. Figg is going to kill me," he whispered, chewing his lip. "Here, I'll rise the rest of the soap off you. Can you go back to the park by yourself?"   
  
Sirius waited patiently for Harry to douse him in water again, watching him apologetically. It was obvious Harry was extremely tired especially after the hour long chase through the yard. The boy's hand shook slightly with weariness, and his eyes were fighting to stay open.   
  
He let Harry push himself back outside, and ducked behind a bush the instant Harry returned to Arabella's backyard. Sirius mentally timed himself, planning to march back if his godson still hadn't left in ten minutes, but all his thoughts were dashed from his mind the instant a car pulled up in the driveway.   
  
The outline of the senile old lady was distinct in the passenger seat, shielding another person from his view. All the hopes of seeing his godson again that day crushed, Sirius drew himself deeper into the shadows, tracing his way back to the park.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
Well… this chapter was a bit longer. I sort of tried to jump start the plot so half the time, Harry wouldn't be running away from Sirius, that'll be too mean. Although… I must admit, the idea was tempting.   
  
That's for all those great reviews!   
  
Sorry, no time to reply! I'm living for 2 reports due next week, so I probably won't be posting for a week or so. Ack! I'm beginning to neglect Cheating Death. Urg… I decided to post a chapter just before I disappear into a coma. *sigh*   
  



	4. of familiar strangers

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
Oh crud, I didn't realize how hard it would be to change the time. I guess the majority wanted Harry to be six or six and a half, but if I move the time back to Harry being six and a half, it'll be mid winter. Urg… or we can make Harry going on seven, so I could push up the time frame about four months previous. Or we can just pretend England has Southern California weather so it remains nicely warm the whole year. *grin* Okay, instead of early September, the story takes place in around May, and lets pretend that elementary schools get out already then.   
  
bad chapter title... I know... I was desperate...   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars  
** By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter four - of familiar strangers   
  
  
  
Remus hesitated when he stepped out of the car. His heightened scenes especially after the full moon made him especially alert. Instinctively, his eyes traveled to the tall row of bushes at the side of the house.   
  
"What is it?" Arabella asked.   
  
Remus frowned. Had he imagined it? The shadow of a coal black dog…   
  
"Nothing. Let's go inside."   
  
Arabella nodded, probably dismissing his actions as paranoia. Remus followed her to the house, careful to keep his expression stoic.   
  
All his efforts at composure went to waste, however, the moment he set foot in her living room. Leaning against the bay windows, eyes closed in a fitful sleep, was a boy with messy dark hair and round glasses. For the briefest of moments, the image of his childhood friend flashed in his mind, lying dead in the rubble of his house. Remus drew a sharp breath, taking a set back.   
  
Arabella didn't seem to notice his reaction. "What happened to my garden?" she grumbled, scanning her eyes over the flooded flowerbeds in distaste. But the windows were sparkling clean, looking as if they had been furiously scrubbed. "And what's Harry doing here?" she asked, frowning.   
  
"That's Harry?" Remus asked softly.   
  
"Yes, and I specifically told Petunia that I would not be home to watch Harry today. That woman does anything to keep Harry outside," Arabella grumbled as she pulled open the patio doors, drying the grass with a wave of her wand.   
  
But Remus wasn't listening. His eyes were fixed on Harry's face, trying to fix every detail into his memory. The hair, the face, even the glasses were the exact replica of James.   
  
"Let him sleep," Remus whispered. "I'll take him."   
  
Arabella smiled knowingly. Remus found himself beside the boy, carefully lifting him. He was a bit baffled by the distinct smell of soap from Harry. He was soaked to the skin and caked from head to foot in mud as if he had been trying to wash something uncooperative.   
  
"His clothes are wet. Do you have something dry that Harry could borrow? Harry's going to catch a cold in these things," Remus said distractedly.   
  
Arabella nodded, the smile wider on her face, "I'll call Petunia and tell them Harry's staying here tonight."   
  
"Is that alright? Won't they be suspicious?"   
  
Arabella grunted, her voice bitter. "Trust me. Petunia will practically dance with joy."   
  
  
  
  
  
Harry blinked awake groggily, feeling more rested then he did for months. The bed was soft beneath him, and the blankets warm and comforting. It was nothing like the cheap old cupboard that came close to freezing him to death every winter.   
  
_ The cupboard…   
  
_ Harry sat up with a jerk. What would the Dursleys say if they found out he just ruined Mrs. Figg's yard? Harry shuddered at the thought.   
  
He hurriedly retrieved his glasses, but paused in shock when he recognized his surroundings. He was in a bed, not very big but colossal in his eyes, one of the few guestrooms of the old lady's that did not smell like cats and cabbage. Harry's heart sank when he realized he must have fallen asleep in her yard. She must be furious!   
  
Harry scrambled out of bed and opened the door silently, wondering if he could sneak out without her noticing.   
  
"…should I tell him?" came a man's voice. Harry frowned. He didn't recognize it.   
  
"Don't. Harry is too young to understand," Mrs. Figg's came across the room.   
  
They were talking about him. Harry knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but his curiosity was too overwhelming. He opened the door wider, pressing his ear against the crack.   
  
"But he has a right to know about Sirius."   
  
"You won't do any good! Don't give him hate at such a young age. Don't say…," Mrs. Figg's voice trailed off. There was a shuffle, and footsteps approaching. Harry backed away from the door nervously. "Harry, dear, if you're awake, then come out."   
  
Harry swallowed uneasily, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. But it was too late to run back into bed and pretend. Slowly, he pushed the door open and faced the hobbling old lady.   
  
"Sorry," Harry whispered, face downcast.   
  
Mrs. Figg seemed to overlook that statement. She gripped his shoulder with bony hands and led him jerkily to the living room. "I have someone I want you to meet, dear. This is my nephew."   
  
Harry was partly relieved that she didn't seem to mind the damage to her yard at all, but all thoughts faded from his mind when he caught sight of the man sitting stiffly in a chair. The young man, probably only in his mid-twenties but already with graying hair, trigged a sense of familiarity. He was pale and sickly, as if he had just went through a wasting illness that drained him. But his eyes were wide and unblinking; they stared back at him with something akin to shock. The man's sad eyes seemed to trigger a memory deep in his mind, but he couldn't place his finger on it.   
  
"Moony?" Harry whispered.   
  
Those words escaped from his mouth even before he realized it. It was so softly whispered that Harry could barely even hear himself, but the man did. He sat up, face possibly becoming even paler.   
  
"What did you call me?" the man whispered shakily.   
  
Harry's stomach filled with ice. The man was probably insulted! And he just met him too…   
  
"No, nothing, sir," Harry took a step back. He half expected to bump into Mrs. Figg, but belatedly realize that she had left. Harry looked around uneasily, feeling out of place with the strange man.   
  
"No, you called me Moony," the man continued, eyes becoming distant.   
  
"Sorry!" Harry said hurriedly.   
  
The man looked surprised for a moment. He shook his head, "No, I'm not offended. It's just…," he paused, expression darkening for a moment. "Nevermind, my name is Remus Lupin. And you must be Harry."   
  
He held out his hand, smiling warmly. A comforting and welcoming smile that just drew Harry's trust. Without hesitation, Harry reached out, but the moment his hand brushed against Remus' fingers, a tingling warmth shot up the length of his arm. Images flooded his mind, and Harry drew his hand back sharply in surprise.   
  
_ A white glow. A blood-curling howl. A silver…   
  
_ "Wolf."   
  
He didn't know where word came from; he wasn't even aware that he spoke aloud. But the man blanched into a ghastly color, his left hand gripping the chair so tightly that it shook.   
  
"What?" Remus choked out.   
  
"Nothing!" Harry said, looking at the man with apprehension. His reaction was frightening.   
  
"You said…"   
  
"Sorry! I don't know where it came from!" Harry shook his head, taking another step back. Vernon looked worse when he was angry, but the man seemed to emit a quiet, suppressed emotion that was far stronger. But Remus seemed fearful, not angry.   
  
Remus hesitated at the obvious distress Harry was in. "Harry, it doesn't matter." He placed a reassuring hand on the frail boy's shoulder, but he flinched under his touch. Remus pulled back quickly, bewildered.   
  
Harry wasn't sure what sort of desperation possessed him then. All he knew that he had offended the stranger somehow, but there was something frighteningly wrong with him. When Remus took another cautious step forward, Harry fled from the room. He barely caught himself before tripping over a few cats in the narrow hallway. But as he made his way blindly towards the door, he struck something solidly, and the force sent him sprawling on the ground.   
  
"Harry! What is wrong, child?" the familiar, raspy voice caught his attention. Amazingly, she remained standing, looking down at him with a rather severe expression.   
  
"Mrs. Figg! Sorry," Harry bit his lip worriedly. "I… I was going back."   
  
The old lady's expression turned even harsher. "I called your aunt and told her you were staying here tonight. Is that alright with you?"   
  
Harry nodded even though his confusion.   
  
_ Mrs. Figg asked him to stay? She never did in the past unless the Dursleys were on vacation. What was going on?   
  
_ "Harry, are you alright? I'm sorry if I alarmed you," said a voice behind him.   
  
Harry scrambled to his feet when Remus stepped in the hallway. He wasn't sure why he was so frightened of a person so gentle and kind, but it was so instinctive. There were two emotions combating each other, the urge to trust him, the urge to fear him. It didn't make sense. Harry wished that the dog was with him; there was never any doubt towards Padfoot.   
  
Remus seemed to notice the flickering colors in Harry's eyes. He maintained his distance. Whatever Arabella saw, she chose to ignore.   
  
"It's time for a rather late lunch, don't you agree? Why don't you both sit down and I'll get us some pie?"   
  
Harry blanched.   
  
Remus smiled knowingly when he caught sight of Harry's face. "Arabella, that's quite alright. I'll take Harry out for something."   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
How did Remus come about with a driver's license? Uhh… sorry, I can't really explain that.   
  
This isn't a very good chapter, is it? Urggggg… I can just see my review count steadily going down, it's happening already. *sigh* since when did I get so caught up on reviews? Wah… but I love reader feedback… take away the readers and I sorta just sink. Love the comments! I'm glad you found Harry believable! Harry does a sort of change in this, but that's because he's interacting with humans and not animals. Harry's much more comfortable with things that don't speak back or doesn't judge.   
  
Harry's reaction is weird, isn't it? He's a bit creepy too with the things he knows. Humm… have you ever met a kid that just… knew stuff? Kids are very perceptive; their judgment isn't affected by external influences. I've seen these kids in hospitals that just knew when a pregnant lady passes by whether her child was a boy or a girl. They're even more accurate than those fuzzy devices. Wow… that makes me sound like a doctor. I'm not! I'm not even past high school yet! ACK! I sound old… *hides*   
  
yes, I know Remus wasn't there on Halloween, but who says he didn't dream or think about it? It's still creepy to see a kid the carbon copy of his friend looking sort of... dead.   
  
Oh wow, looks like everyone wants Remus to play soccer. ack! a cultural discrepency, I know, but if I said football to the Americans, they'd be inviting quite a different mental picture. *eyes bug out* Well…. Unfortunately… or fortunately in some cases, Remus doesn't actually play. I mean, hey, as a coach, all you do is give the kids the ball and sit back. But still… well… if you insist… maybe that can be somewhere else or like a bonus scene. But a warning though! If you want it, it'll probably delay the rest of the story, and it's moving at a pretty fast pace so far. And plus… I can't play soccer… *hides* So it'll be off... a long bit...   
  
Urania - thank you!! *grins* Harry seems like he would be a cute kid with the oversized glasses and supersized green eyes and all.   
  
Lin-z - yup! I was going to have Padfoot get a hair cut too but that just seemed too cruel... *sigh*   
  
Kat - *grins* and Sirius was torturing him too! Wonder if Sirius is ticklish... *cackle*   
  
Kaylin - I will!   
  
Mihoshe - I'm the only kid... have no clue how little kids act. I went to the mall and just stared at kids last Friday and scared a ton of parents though...   
  
Rix - I will!!   
  
Gabrielle - thanks!   
  
ArtGirl - really? Well... I guess six or seven years old is about the same...   
  
starkitty - thanks! Tell me what you think about this chapter!   
  
prongsjr - I hope you don't mind Harry being six and a half, it's sorta the middle route. Ack! Homework does suck! oh well... turned it all in today...   
  
Lindsay - hehe, i was afraid I'd lose points for originality in for this story, but that's hard to resist! having Sirius break into the Dursleys and saving the little kid is too tempting... but I'm not going to tell you what happens!   
  
vmr - thanks!!   
  
Nicky - Cheating Death is falling behind, isn't it? Urg... and all my drafts are horrible too. *sigh* I hope you enjoy this chapter even though nothing really happens... ack! I'm so incompetent...   
  
Luna Rose - sure!   
  
Semmel - I won't! There's the ending which I'm still pinning for... although the epilogues will probably be horribly delayed. Harry's decision is still coming up. *rubs hands together eagerly*   
  
Taracollowen - the break wasn't too long! Just a week... eh? what did I do? The plot's really compressed in this story, sort of like Cheating Death. Not much lingering in the beginning, then it stretches out, before compressing again. I hope it works okay...   
  
Tilly MercS - Tilly, you're back!! Yay!! I was beginning to dread cliffys 'cause MersC would skin me and Tilly wouldn't be there to hide me in a closet! Ooo.. well.. the sub is actually from Dudley. There's a reference to it later... *grins* Remus is still pretty tired from the full moon... I wonder if that credits him as getting Post Moon Cycles... PMC... ack... strange thought. Deserves a ficlet to go along though... *light blub*   
  
Child of Two Worlds - thank you! Tell me what you think of this one!   
  
Moppet Poppet - spinning? uhh... are you eating ok? Or... I'm taking that rotating chair from you! Harry's still okay, Mrs. Figg is pretty helpful. uhhh... mew? *thinks... Moppet = McGonagoll in disguise?*   
  
SasseSam - yeah... his reaction would be pretty disturbed. Especially with the false accusations before too...   
  
Allocin - yeah, i thought about the football and soccer part and put soccer just to avoid using a name that stands for both kicking a ball and a lime shaped ball that requires 200 lbs men to smash into each other. *sigh* Remus + football (the american thing) does not mix... I really had no clue about the subway thing... oops. uhh... uhh... uhh... lets... pretend its imported. *hides* I'm horrible at that, aren't I? Notice how the weather in England became like Southern California no rain blue skies sort of thing... *groans* Eep! I wont' give up Cheating Death! Really I won't! *runs off to hide again*   
  
Teigra - yeah, flowery shampoo! *cackles evilly* I feel sorry for Padfoot too seeing his godson right in front of him and not being able to say anything... *sigh*   
  



	5. of truth and lies

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars  
** By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter five - of suspicions   
  
  
  
Remus settled on walking, muggle foods court only a mile away. It gave him time to speak to Harry, but at the same time, he wasn't sure if it was a good thing. Harry seemed so different from the most six year-olds: soft, withdrawn, so repressed that it was hard to discern anything other that fear and curiosity on his face. He never did expect Harry to be quietly restrained, acting much like the way he did a year after a werewolf shredded a portion of his back.   
  
He stole a glance at the child walking quietly beside him. Sensing eyes on him, Harry turned to him questioningly. Remus smiled as warmly as he could.   
  
"Where would you like to eat, Harry?"   
  
The boy only shrugged.   
  
"What do you usually eat?" Remus asked again.   
  
Harry was thoughtful for a moment. "Celery."   
  
Remus raised an eyebrow incredulously. "Do you like celery?"   
  
Harry shook his head furiously.   
  
"What do you like then?" Remus asked, still a bit surprised. Why would Harry always eat something he didn't like? That didn't make any sense at all.   
  
Harry shrugged again.   
  
Remus inwardly sighed, feeling another shred of patience gone. He mentally reminded himself to a conversation with Dumbledore tomorrow. Gaining Harry's trust was far harder than he had thought.   
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Harry watching him curiously.   
  
"If you have a question, go ahead and say it," Remus said gently.   
  
Harry tore his gaze away, and for a moment, Remus thought he would stay silent.   
  
"Whose Sirius?"   
  
Remus faltered in his steps, ice filling his stomach. Harry had heard after all; how much of their conversation did he catch? Hopefully not very much if Harry was to inquire after him so blatantly. Remus struggled through several minutes of tense silence. Apart of him wanted to spill the entire story to the boy, but he knew that was not what Dumbledore and Arabella wanted. The old potions mistress had made it clear that Harry was too young to accept such a cruel story, and after facing the boy, Remus had to admit she was right. He drew a trembling breath, hoping that Harry would not notice.   
  
"Someone evil," Remus finally muttered, voice bitter. "Someone dangerous. Stay away from him."   
  
Harry said nothing for the rest of the trip, walking beside him with a distracted gaze. And even at the cafeteria, the child seemed distant. He sat meekly at the table, eating the food mechanically, every movement jerky and cautious has if someone threatened to scream at him any minute. Harry was unnervingly quiet, completely and uncharacteristically still for a child so young. At first, Remus thought that he was only shy, but now it seemed much more than that.   
  
Harry picked at the fries, leaving the burger completely untouched. Remus briefly entertained the idea of him suffering from an eating disorder of some sort.   
  
"Harry, if you'd like something else…," he began.   
  
Harry jumped, snapping his hand back as if burnt. He shook his head hastily.   
  
"Well, if you're sure," Remus said slowly.   
  
The two fell into a tense silence again. Harry seemed to have no intention of speaking unless spoken to. But every now and then, he would turn his emerald eyes to Remus that seemed to pierce him right through.   
  
"Why do you hate Sirius?"   
  
The question was softly whispered, but it still made Remus lurch. He choked on his drink, spluttering and gasping for breath as he tried to control the pounding in his ears. He mopped at the spill half-heartedly with the napkin, his hand wavering so badly that he only smeared the water more.   
  
"How do you know I hate him?" Remus asked, staring at Harry with wide eyes. He was thankful that his voice deceptively calm.   
  
Harry picked at the edge of the table distractedly. "You hate him. Why?"   
  
Remus didn't miss how he skillfully avoided the question, wondering whether Harry had done it consciously or not. But the boy seemed to ask questions that were a sure stab in the gut. Harry's perception was uncanny. The flaxen haired man drew a sharp breath, forcing his hands to keep from trembling.   
  
"Sirius…," Remus swallowed, unsure of what he should say and what he shouldn't. "…lied. He betrayed his friends. He did horrible things."   
  
A suffocating silence enveloped the two, with Remus trying hard to avoid Harry's gaze, and Harry grinding a French fry between his fingers. He seemed to be struggling to say something, but afraid to say it at the same time.   
  
"He killed?" Harry's words were more of a statement than a question. But despite those cruel words, he was still perfectly composed, his tone only of innocent curiosity.   
  
Remus could feel the color draining from his face. How did he know, how could he know?   
  
"Yes, he did," Remus admitted quietly.   
  
Harry chewed his lip, looking at him timidly. "What if he didn't?"   
  
Remus' hand jerked convulsively and he came close to knocking his drink onto the floor. "Harry, what are you…?"   
  
"What if Sirius didn't? What if it was someone else?"   
  
"Harry, did someone tell you that? Have you met someone who told you that?" Remus asked. His words bore a dangerous edge that seemed to bring out the wolfish shadow hidden deep within him.   
  
Harry seemed utterly confused at those words, shrinking back deep in the plastic chair. Harry shook his head quickly, color draining from his already pale skin. "Sorry! I… sorry!"   
  
"No, Harry. Please tell me how you know," Remus said worriedly, reaching forward to place a soothing hand on the child's shoulder. Harry's reaction was unnerving. But he was even more surprised when the boy all but darted from under his lose grip, scrambling behind the chair to put some distance between himself and the older man. Remus backed away quickly as well, his action frighteningly reminiscent of those who discovered his true nature and shunned him.   
  
"Sorry! You're angry. I didn't mean to! Sorry!" Harry whispered desperately.   
  
Watching Harry's frightened expression, Remus was torn between grinding out all the secrets from the boy and trying to comfort him. It was so strange to see someone afraid of angering him as a person; those who fled from him were hateful of the wolf side of him, but Harry wasn't even taught those stereotypes. There was something bothering the child, something very, very wrong…   
  
"Harry, I'm not angry," Remus said carefully, raising his hands to show that he meant no harm. "I just wanted to know why you thought Sirius was innocent. Did someone tell you that? Have you met a strange man who spoke to you?"   
  
Harry shook his head, still wary and anxious. "No. But I just thought…" his voice drifted and faded into muteness, turning his attention to the edge of the blue plastic chair. He picked at it half-heartedly, looking ready to bolt at a moments notice. "It's like that feeling that I've met you before," he continued softly. "That feeling that… you're here for something."   
  
"How…?" Remus' voice waved and caught in his throat.   
  
Harry shrugged slightly.   
  
The blatant naïveté of his childish gesture left no question about his honesty. Remus' confusion only grew at Harry's words. Harry had never heard of Sirius; he hadn't seen him. Then why did he wonder about the criminal's innocence? How could he have known? There were so many unanswered questions; Harry was a sealed vault of hidden secrets that just seemed to reject every key. But at the boy's pale and frightened face, Remus couldn't find the heart to pursue it.   
  
"Harry, it's alright," Remus said as reassuringly as he could. "If you don't want to talk about it, you don't have to."   
  
  
  
  
  
Harry reluctantly stepped back into the house on 4 Privet Drive the next day, Remus behind him. The few hours he spent in the other man's company was a relief from the bitter relatives of his. Mild and soft-spoken, he never asked any questions that seemed to make Harry uncomfortable. Although Mrs. Figg's nephew seemed to say strange things and react oddly to others once in a while, he was the kindest person Harry met since quite a while. If only he could stay…   
  
"Boy! It's about time!" a gruff voice shouted from the living room.   
  
Harry flinched at the sound, entire body tensing at the fear it invoked. Uncle Vernon was angry! He was angry so easily of the late, always complaining about the company. He always took it out on Harry, with Aunt Petunia on vacation and Dudley spending half his afternoons in day care. Uncle Vernon was furious, he was going to be punished. Unconsciously, Harry shivered.   
  
Remus' hand found its place on his shoulder, face becoming unusually grave.   
  
"You stayed overnight at her house?! If I hear Mrs. Figg say one word of complaint…" Vernon trailed off when he noticed the stranger standing behind his nephew, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Who're you?"   
  
Remus hand tightened, and for a moment, Harry thought he was going to drag him back outside again. But he was surprised to see a small smile, however forced, on the man's face.   
  
"Hello, I'm Arabella Figg's nephew, Remus Lupin. Nice to meet you, Mr. Dursley," Remus held out a hand amiably.   
  
Vernon took it, flustered for yelling out in the presence of a stranger. "Yes, well, I hope the boy hasn't been causing any trouble."   
  
"No, he has been a great help. He washed all the windows for us without even being asked," Remus said carefully. Harry noticed a forcefulness behind his words as if he was trying hard to suppress a strong sentiment.   
  
Harry glanced up in surprise; the man was defending him?   
  
Vernon scowled, drawing his hand back as if the very thought of Harry's goodness was revolting. "He's a devious child, constantly scheming. You shouldn't trust him. I'd watch him if I were you."   
  
Harry swallowed, narrowing his eyes bitterly. He had just gained Remus' friendship, and his uncle was already discrediting him before he got to know him! It wasn't fair…   
  
Remus' hand tightened again convulsively, pulling Harry back in an oddly protective gesture. His smile faltered looking more like a grimace than anything welcoming.   
  
"Mr. Dursley, Harry's a nice boy. And that is hardly the right thing to say especially in front of Harry."   
  
"I've lived with him for five years and he's been nothing but trouble," Vernon snapped, face purpling in irritation. "Now, if you're done dropping the boy off, then get off my property!"   
  
"Actually, I do have a reason for coming," Remus gritted out, his upturned lips falling altogether. He was rapidly loosing his composure. "I'm a coach for soccer for a school in London, and I was wondering if you could spare Harry and your son for two hours every day for some training."   
  
"Dudley doesn't like sports," Vernon grumbled, although he did look slightly interested. The thought of getting rid of Harry for two hours every day was tempting.   
  
"Harry then? It's free of charge," Remus asked hopefully.   
  
"Fine!" Vernon snapped.   
  
He gripped the collar of Harry's over sized shirt and tore him roughly from Remus' grasp, pushing the older man out the door with the other. He slammed the door shut, and glared at it silently. He seemed to be listening whether or not Remus had left. After several minutes, Vernon seemed satisfied and turned around slowly.   
  
Harry paled.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
Anybody think I overdid Harry's shyness? Or their complete lack of communication? Ack!   
  
Remus doesn't even suspect the Dursleys yet… *sigh*   
  
Wow! Of Western Stars is so much more liked than Cheating Death… maybe I'll put that on hiatus for a while and work exclusively on this one. humm...   
  
El - *grins* Harry is cute! But only with Sirius though... Harry doesn't really have these memories, they're more like feelings and instinct, like... humm... donnuo... it gets explained more later.   
  
Dog Stars Crush - thanks! I'm glad you decided to read after all. I was afraid that this wasn't a very original plot, but it was certainly a fun theme.   
  
Mihoshe - thanks!! I hope you like this one too! It's a bit weird... this one.   
  
BlueSkywalker_2000 - wow! glad you like it so much! Thank you!   
  
ginny5 - I will!   
  
enchantress646 - ack! Really? I can imagine life without R movies, all the violence and blood, what will we do without that? Okay... I sound weird.. ignore me. Well... I'm not telling what happens later *grins*   
  
Kat - I donnuo how to write that part! That's the problem... I should have made Remus a tennis coach...   
  
Jessica C Potter - are they really believable? I was so afraid they weren't so I added a ton of descriptions... wow... thanks!   
  
Sparks - I will!   
  
Bumblebee Bucy - everyone has different suggestions! *is confused* well... it is sort of lighthearted early on, then it gets angsty *sigh* I can't write anything but angst. I always wanted to write a kiddo Harry fic, they're really fun to work with. *rubs hands together excitedly*   
  
Allocin - is it really cool there? Does it rain a lot? Becuase so far the weather in Of Western Stars is like 80 degrees... F. Harry gets these weird memories/visions a lot, especially with other wizards. There's a bit of a loop hole of why he never got a vision when touching Padfoot, and I haven't thought of an explanation for that yet. Meet Peter? humm...   
  
Kaylin - *grins* Moony is popular isn't he?   
  
Tilly & MercS - yup! Remus is the best! He's too mellow for his own good though. He keeps inadvertantly scaring Harry off. I'm planning to make up blow up at least twice in this fic *cackles* Ack! Sirius wasn't in this chapter... but he will have exclusive chapters later MercS, I promise! And it was a cliffy too... *wails* Tilly!! I'll buy you steriods! HELP!   
  
Jayde - thank you!!! I will!   
  
Child of Two Worlds - Ooo... oops. now that you mention it, it did seem like Harry blanced at the sight of Remus, did he? Yes! Please help me with the soccer stuff! Everyone wants a scene with that, and I don't know anything. What are the different positions and what do they do? *grin* I'll spare Remus with the parents... him coaching Harry... humm... donnuo. That's what I planned in the outline, but after I wrote it, the story's sort of running lose by itself... donnuo yet...   
  
Lynx - wah! Cheating Death may be on hiatus... *hides*   
  
Rowena Gryfindor AKA Bob - thank you!! Ooo... love the name   
  
Taracollowen - I'm glad you like the plot! I couldn't quite sympathize with an energetic outgoing little Harry, so he's sort of the opposite. He's dead silent with people, then releases all the kid side of him with Padfoot. *sigh* poor kid...   
  
Malena - thank you!! I'm so flattered! I hope I don't let you down anytime soon...   
  
Teigra - *grins* yeah, good thing he didn't get a hair cut too... *cackles* well, actually, Harry had a vision. He didn't really remember Remus as a werewolf, it was like this flash, sort of like divination. *laughs* Arabella's rock cakes taste like Hagrid's cooking. *teeth fall out* yeah, this chapter show's Harry's true personality even more. He's really withdrawn.   
  
Lindsay - thank you! I'm so glad you reviewed! Tell me what you think of this one too...   
  
Basilisk - I'm continuing! See? Ack!! Remus... football.... noooooo...   
  
Shaynie - here you go!   
  
Luna Rose - here it is!   
  
Ithica - uhh... Remus in little shorts? uhhh... well... I hadn't thought about what he'd wear yet... *tries to make a mental picture*   
  
Erin Finnlaith - thanks!! *glomps back* Any Sirius and Harry interaction is really amusing! Well... sometimes... not after GOF and not when Harry gets all depressed, but when he was a little kid, he must have had a lot of interesting moments with his godfather.   
  
Hippy Flower - oooo!! heir of Voldermort I bow to you and give you sacrifical Harries on a plate! Love the name *grins*   
  
Triskelion - thank you! I'm glad you find this believable! Some stories had Harry so outgoing as a kid it seems really out of character for him. Tell me what you think of this chapter too!   
  
vmr - thanks!!   
  
vivace - yeah, little kids are so fascinatingly clever and smart sometimes. Your English is fine! Ooo... Germany! That's so neat! What's it like?   
  
Kylana - wow... I'm so sorry!! Go to sleep! Lets see... what books have I recently read? uhh...   
  
MidnightDragon - yeah! I'm waiting to write that too *rubs hands together eagerly* I hope you enjoyed this chapter!   
  
Nicky - well, Harry had sort of a vision, not really a memory. He's sort of a divinator in this story, but it gets explained better later on.   
  
bec - there will there will!   
  
Lin-z - cheating... ack!! makes me sound like a criminal! Well... cheating might go on hiatus. I don't know yet, but I have an idea a lot of people will kill me because of it. *sigh*   
  
prongsjr - Remus has really disturbing reactions, doesn't he? He just sort of pales and shuts up... kinda reminds me of Harry in a way...   
  
sara - I hope I don't let you down! Harry's really frustrating to characterize but I'm glad you think he's believable! Thank you!   
  
Ice - soccer is soccer... Remus is going to be teaching the game with the round ball with black dots... I don't know that much about the game though...   
  
Giesbrecht - memory starts at three or four? humm... that's good then. Harry's age got moved back to 6 years and about 7 to 8 months or so, I'm not really sure if he acts like it. The only kid I've actually spoken to around that time frame didn't really fit into the quiet category *sigh* Your info really helped! I think keeping Harry that age and that character will go a lot easier now that I do I'm not completely off or something...   
  
Lady Foxfire - well, not yet! I'm still trying to figure it out... urg... tell me what you think about this chapter!   
  
RJLL - well, he thought he imagined it. And Sirius isn't suppose to be able to reach Little Whinging so quickly, so he thought he was just paranoid. I didn't explain that though...   
  



	6. of improvision

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars  
** By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter six - of improvising   
  
"Remus, that is a serious allegation to make."   
  
Remus sighed, shaking his head. "I know! But his relatives… they're terrible people. It's not place to raise a child. I've only spoken to Vernon once, and the way he speaks about Harry…" His voice drifted as he turned his eyes away.   
  
"Remus, they have a child of their own and he seems to be…"   
  
"Dumbledore, they treat their son and Harry completely differently! If you were here, you would say the same thing!" Remus said sharply. "They constantly kick him out of the house. Vernon constantly says how worthless Harry is in front of him. He tells everyone how evil and devious he is, and Harry just seals up like a wall. Dumbledore, he's just a child, he doesn't deserve this!"   
  
Dumbledore was silent; it was hard to discern his expression. The light was long gone from his eyes, and the blue lacked its usual intensity.   
  
"We can't leave Harry with those people," Remus repeated again.   
  
Dumbledore sighed. "Remus, with the protection wards, the Dursleys are the safest place for him right now."   
  
"It isn't Sirius I'm worried about right now, it's those relatives of his!" Remus' nearly shouted. Dumbledore sobered at the tone; Remus rarely raised his voice, but when he did, it was usually serious. Remus ran a tired hand over his face. "The way they speak about him, it's like he's a monster or something. Harry's just six years old! He doesn't understand any of this. We can't leave Harry with them. They'll destroy him. He's already become so lost…"   
  
A tense silence settled between the two, Remus resting his head in his hands wearily, and Dumbledore grimly thoughtful.   
  
"When all of this is over, we'll find a new home for Harry," Dumbledore finally said.   
  
Remus' jerked up, his eyes hopeful.   
  
"I'm sure you're right. I always realized that Harry's relatives had defaults, but I had hoped…," Dumbledore sighed, his shoulders sagging and the age appearing on his face. "We'll find a new home for him with someone who will take good care of him. But right now, lie low, Remus. I know it'll be hard, but we have to wait at least until Harry's safety is ensured from Sirius."   
  
Remus flinched at those words, but he still nodded. "When all this is over," he repeated softly. That would be a welcome reverie; coming to Little Whinging was nothing but a reminder of the past. But seeing Harry so unhappy and so neglected made him oddly angry that he never came earlier. "Dumbledore, if it's possible, I'd like to raise Harry."   
  
Dumbledore's eyes gleamed brightly for a moment, and he smiled knowingly. "I'll see if it can be done."   
  
  
  
  
  
"Hello everyone. I suppose you all want to play?" Remus said with a warm smile, masking the unease in his mind. The six little boys, the oldest no more than ten years of age, stared at him anxiously. But Harry wasn't among them. Remus couldn't hide the nagging suspicion, but Sirius shouldn't come until another two days. He sighed inwardly, with the little school-kids, he knew better than to stretch their patience. If Remus waited any longer for the dark haired child, they'd erupt in protest.   
  
Remus cleared his throat, lifting the guide manual. It was a muggle guide to soccer, he couldn't find much time to examine it the day before.   
  
… the goalie may use his or her hands, unlike the…   
  
_ What the hell?   
  
_ He had the general idea of the game, it wasn't that different from quidditch. But the rules read like French to him, and he was never that great in foreign languages. Remus chewed his lip, desperately wishing the static pictures would move like the wizarding ones. They would be far more informative than black and white sticks.   
  
Remus cleared his throat again. "You know what? I think all of you should just have some fun today. Here's the ball, divide yourself into teams; it's free play."   
  
He was instantly met with an excited cheer. Remus breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the children running, kicking the spotted ball between them.   
  
Well, that was strange. Why are they only using feet?   
  
Remus frowned in bafflement, flipping through the manual with a renewed determination. All the rules seem to fly right over his head; why could it be like quidditch? He was still trying to make sense of the befuddled instructions when an indignant cry tore him away.   
  
"Sir, he kicked me!" a thin, rat-like boy yelled, point at a pudgy, pig faced kid.   
  
Remus raised an eyebrow, wondering if that child's legs could even reach the seemingly agile kid. "Is that true?" he asked the accused.   
  
"Of course not! He kicked me!" he cried defensively.   
  
"Is this true?" Remus asked a nearby child, with a pampered and haughty demeanor.   
  
"They both kicked each other," he grumbled.   
  
"Hey, what?!"   
  
"… the liar! I saw him…"   
  
"Now, lets be civil," Remus said hastily, rising his hands to separate the bickering miniatures.   
  
"See, he's scolding you, you…"   
  
"Me? He's scolding you! Rat face! You mommy probably…."   
  
Remus drew a deep, calming breath, feeling the shards of patience quickly fuzz away. This was the reason he was never going to coach children again. He never anticipated to deal with these things, he came here for Harry. Where was he?   
  
"You pig! Can't even move your fat little legs, can you? You…"   
  
"… stupid and ugly! Brains the size of a pea! You…"   
  
"Quiet!" Remus insisted, louder than he intended. He glared at the kids sternly, and they cowered under his glower. God, he felt like Snape. But Harry's absence was a thorn in his mind, and it made him snappish. "It's both your faults. Now, apologize to each other right now."   
  
"What?! No way! It's his fault! He…"   
  
"Oh yeah? What about…"   
  
Remus slammed the instructions book against his head in exasperation.   
  
  
  
Hours later, Remus found himself rubbing the sore spot of his forehead. The sun set quiet early in Little Whinging even in summer. The children had long since left (thankfully. If they stayed any longer, Remus feared he would wring their necks), but Remus still lagged behind, sitting alone on the same bench that Harry passed only hours ago. He glanced at his watch.   
  
6:26 pm.   
  
Harry was late, three hours late. He hadn't even had a glimpse of the child walking since the two hours he spent overseeing the strange muggle game, or the one he spent waiting. Fear and doubts were stretching spidery fingers through his mind.   
  
_ What if something had happened? What if Sirius had found Harry on his way here?   
  
_ Remus scowled inwardly; if he waited any longer, he'd go insane. He stood up and began tracing his way to Harry's relative's home, the image of Harry lying lifelessly on the sidewalk haunting his mind. But there was no body of the boy, throat slit and his young face twisted in fear, or the stain of blood on the concrete. Remus was trying to quell his doubts when he knocked on the door to the nondescript house.   
  
No response.   
  
Remus' stomach sank.   
  
"Hello?" Remus knocked on the door of 4 Privet Drive again, the sense of foreboding growing. "Anybody home?"   
  
The door jerked open so abruptly that he almost knocked his fist against the round-faced man.   
  
"What is it?" Vernon snapped, watching Remus with something just short of contempt.   
  
Remus caught himself quickly. There was a strange shiftiness in the man's eyes that made him suspicious. "Mr. Dursley, I was wondering if Harry was home. He never came to the park today, and…"   
  
"What?!" Vernon's face morphed into a disturbing shade of purple. "That boy never showed up? I sent him five hours ago."   
  
"Are you sure?"   
  
"What do you mean, am I'm sure? I saw that boy walk down to the park! Trying to escape his chores, that freak is never up to any good. I should…," Vernon broke off abruptly, but the glare never faded from his eyes.   
  
Remus bit his lip. Vernon's expression told him that he was speaking the truth, but with his response, he wasn't sure if telling Harry's relatives about his absence was a good thing.   
  
"Oh, well, I'm sure Harry went and missed me somehow. I was late, and he probably went to Arabella's to look for me," Remus said.   
  
Vernon snorted, "I suggest you not take chances with that boy. He never does anything willingly. I recommend a good trashing…"   
  
Remus blocked the rest of his words out. He forced his hand still and his expression neutral, afraid that if he stayed any longer, he would do something hopelessly rash.   
  
"I'll go check at Arabella's place. Sorry to disturb you," Remus said hastily, taking several steps back.   
The way they spoke of him, Remus wasn't surprised if Harry had absolutely no self-assurance. Growing up with that sort of influence, he was amazed Harry still carried that innocence.   
  
Remus gritted his teeth. Vernon was pushing his fury past beyond endurance. The way he spoke of 'boy:' Harry, that silent, withdrawn child…   
  
_Harry, where are you?_   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
There! Finally, the plot's finally picking up.   
  
Remus was very poorly characterized. He's too rash, and a bit dense at that. He thinks the Dursleys are mean people but doesn't think they'll go far enough to actually abuse Harry. Also, I always considered Remus a bit... humm... moralistic? He sees the good side in people. Like with Snape in PoA, he actually tried to be civil and yadda yadda yadda. He doesn't go right into the evil, horrible assumptions of psycology and the like. Uhh… maybe not… Ok! I admit it! I screwed up!   
  
SiriusBPadfoot - well, it wasn't that bad of a cliffy... not half as bad as the ones in Cheating Death. This one sort of implies what happens afterwards, doesn't it? *eep!* Don't kill me for postponing Cheating Death! I'm not going to go on hiatus that long, I'm guessing one or two weeks... not too long... *hides from Padfoot's wrath*   
  
vmr - thanks!   
  
Mihoshe - yeah, the Dursleys are really mean, can't think of a good punishment for them though. They deserve a lot of bad luck...   
  
Hippy Flower - Ooo.. lard... isn't lard flamable? *eyes gleam maliciously*   
  
Kat - uhh... Sirius isn't in this chapter either... *sigh* Remus doesn't really know how to play soccer, he has no clue what's going on. I didn't really explain how he got all the other students... huh... damn...   
  
Dog Stars Crush - thanks!! Little six year old Harry always gets the short end of the stick, it seems... poor kid.   
  
Luna Rose - Remus does seem a little thick headed, doesn't he? He's sort of idealistic, in a way. Remus always considers the good side of people before the bad...   
  
Jayde - well, he sort of suspects it, doesn't he. But with all those stories Remus told Harry, it's hard to say...   
  
Ice - something bad to Vernon... humm... he deserves a lot of bad things... *cackle*   
  
Aya G. - aww... don't cry! No Harry bashing yet... well... not in this chapter anyway. It's okay!   
  
RJLL - umm... well... this chapter really doesn't say what happens to Harry, does it? humm... well, Remus does play a larger part in this story than in Cheating Death. He's a neat character to work with.   
  
Giesbrecht - but football has a double meaning *sigh* don't know if it's a good idea for people to mentally picture Remus in armor and helmet and the like... that's just... strange... all these cultural discrepencies! Ack... so frustrating.   
  
prongsjr - Harry is really creepy though, isn't he? He just scares the hell out of Remus sometimes... *shakes head ruefully* Sirius will throw a fit...   
  
beefy - really? Thanks! I hope I don't disappoint you or anything later!   
  
Sherylyn - Wow, that's great to hear! I was afraid Harry's vocabulary was too large as the story wore on or something... but oh well, it'll read choppily if otherwise. Cheating Death will come back soon, I swear! I have this story almost finished on a disk well protected. Once I finish the rough draft of this all the way through, I'll go back and revise Cheating. *grins*   
  
Lady of Arundel - see, this is soon, right? *looks hopeful* Remus is a bit dense, isn't he? Urg... I mean, I always thought if Harry was abused, Sirius would be the first to jump to this conclusion, considering how much he despises the Dursleys already. Remus is a bit more lienient on them...   
  
Lindsay - Ooo... I thought about it then but I was too lazy to write how everyone eyed Remus suspiciously when Harry jumped out of his chair. Well... I'm not telling what happens later! You'll have to find out! I'm glad you liked the chapter though!   
  
Nicky - well, Harry is sort of turning wheels in Remus' head isn't he? humm... *sigh* Remus didn't stay to hear it... poor Harry...   
  
vivace - yeah, Harry's reaction to people in general's really suppressed. It'll probably be worse right after an incident too...   
  
Allocin - humm... that expression sounds right... It'll be sort of suspicious with Remus just teaching Harry alone, so he has a bunch of kids. They're spoiled and annoying though. *grins* poor guy. Well, Harry does... but it comes in later. Harry gets a lot of dreams, doesn't that count as accidental magic? Sirius will be in the next chapter, I promise! Animagus form halts visions? Well, humm... Ooo... a dream? Wow, about this? I've had weird dreams about Sirius walking on trees before... don't know where that came from. That's an interesting idea! Remus gives him paper to draw and amuse himself, and he draws Voldermort. Wow... that'll be quite a shock. Hey, that's a good idea! Can I use it somewhere?   
  
Lynx - well, Remus will find out... eventually. It's something that's very hard to hide especially if Remus is so attentive. See, this is a fast post, right?   
  
EmiV - I'm glad you like it! I'll write more, I really will!   
  
Gaby - you're back!! I was getting worried. How was vacation? Where did you go? Yeah, luckily Remus hasn't told Harry about Sirius' animagus thing, or to avoid big black dogs. Cheating Death should be back in about... lets see... two weeks? Around that time I think...   
  
kelly - you'll have more! I'm glad you think it's really believable, it's a great relief.   
  
Bumblebee Bucy - yup! Harry's an adorable little kid, much more than... Dudley... *makes face*   
  
Lady Foxfire - Ooo... I didn't really allude to that though. He'll be there soon!   
  
LilCookie - thank you for reviewing! I'm glad you liked Sirius and Harry's interaction, and I hope you review again and tell me what you think!   
  
Sherlock 2k - Cheating Death will be back soon! As soon as I get this story done and out of the way, I'll move back to that. I'm getting a lot of inspiration from this book I'm reading, it's really helpful in the psycological aspect... although it's a bit confusing. *grins* I have the ending all written out though, it's just the middle that's the bottle neck... sad, really. But I'm not going to give it away *cackles evilly*   
  
Teigra - yeah, Arabella's cooking is a bit.. lacking. Remus doesn't notice just yet *sigh* Harry'll have to suffer some more. Yeah, I didn't think Harry would either, but hey, he's a six year old, and they're usually curious, right? He has two conflicting emotions there... sort of...   
  
Lisa - okay!! I'll be working excusively on this for a while. I'm glad you like this so much!   
  
Tilly MercS - *wails* Noo... no Sirius for this chapter either. *holds head to keep it from being decapitated* Tilly... help... there's tons of Remus, so it's okay, see? And it's only a semi cliffy this time... right? *runs off to hide in the fridge*   
  
CatC10 - well, I'm not that fast of a writer! And this was sort of a cliffie too... *sigh* But at least it's not on hiatus, right?   
  
Rowena Gryffindor AKA Bob - wow, thank you! No, I'm not that great of a writer! I take a long time rooting it through... ack...   
  
ravenclawer - well, Harry does think of Padfoot has his best friend. As for the ministry, they're just incompetent with Fudge around...   
  
Lady Panther - I will!   
  
Lily Potter - Harry bashing! *grins* Yup, very cruel, but still, it's fun to write and read. We're all evil, aren't we? I'm glad you like this story! Ooo... French! It looks hard...   
  
Melanie Granger - thank you!! I will!   
  
Keara Jordan - Harry is creepy... he's going to get creepier too... but pretend I didn't tell you that *wink wink* I'm not going to say what's going to happen though! Soccer's American, *sigh* I'm corrupted, but I can't type football without imagining a lemon shaped thing.... *groan*   
  
semirhage - well, Harry is going to do magic, but not yet. I hope you enjoyed this chapter though!   
  
El - well... Remus doesn't really kick a ball... he's watching others kick it and is getting really annoyed *grins*   
  



	7. of sour discoveries

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter six - of sour discoveries   
  
_  
* five hours prior *   
  
_  
"You're still here?"   
  
Sirius perked up, but his lips weren't pulled back in a smile nor did he wag his tail excitedly. Something was wrong today. There was a fragility in Harry's voice, a tone of desperation that a six year-old should not have. Harry steps lacked the spring of excitement and energy; Sirius noticed a distinct limp when he approached. Harry sat down beside him slowly, making an obvious effort to be careful.   
  
Sirius whined worriedly, rubbing his head against Harry's hand. He gave him a small smile.   
  
"Sorry I couldn't come earlier. I can't stay very long today either… soccer practice…"Harry said, his voice oddly weak and soft.   
  
_ Soccer? Since when did Harry play soccer?   
  
_ "Here, I have some food. I saved it from yesterday."   
  
He pulled a bundle from his pocket and laid it in front of him carefully. Sirius raised an eyebrow.   
  
_ A hamburger? That was unusual but not unwelcome, although…   
  
_ Sirius glanced at Harry questioningly, noticing not for the first time, the bones that stood out sharply on his face. Why hadn't he noticed before how much weight his godson lost since his arrival? All these meals came at Harry's own cost. Sirius bit back an overwhelming wave of guilt, edging the bundle towards the boy.   
  
But Harry looked miserably upset, even a bit afraid. "You don't like it? I know it's not very fresh anymore, but it's all I can get today. I ate all the fries yesterday. Do you like fries then? I… I'm sorry…"   
  
Sirius was shocked to see tears rise in Harry's eyes. He seemed genuinely distressed that he wouldn't eat. Sirius shook his head quickly, clamping his teeth over the boy's sleeve and dragging his hand towards the food trying to get his point across.   
  
Harry made a small cry of pain and Sirius dropped his arm in surprise. Did he accidentally bite him without meaning to?   
  
Harry drew his hand back jerkily, clasping it against his chest. For a long time, he was silent, his body slumped over with an odd fatigue and his breathing shallow and uneven. Sirius watched him with growing concern, whining and nudging his cheek apologetically. But when he brushed against Harry's shoulder, the boy gasped and pushed him away.   
  
"No, don't!" Harry choked out.   
  
Sirius blinked, feeling a bit hurt. Harry hadn't pushed him away since the day they first met, and that gesture was like a slap to his face.   
  
"Sorry, I…" Harry swallowed uneasily. "I didn't mean it. You're not mad, right? Please don't be angry…"   
  
Sirius paused at those words. Harry seemed so lost, so desperate for someone who cared. He sounded as if he was frightened of him. Sirius nuzzled his cheek, and Harry smiled shakily. He lifted his hand to stroke his fur, but his expression broke into a grimace and he placed his hand back down quickly.   
  
Sirius observed Harry intently. There was something wrong…   
  
Abruptly, Harry grinned. "I can trust you, Padfoot. I don't know why, but I can. I can't tell him anything. He's hiding too many secrets. You're the only one I can tell these things to. For some reason, I think you can understand me."   
  
Sirius whined, nodding his head in agreement. Harry's unquestioning trust was too much to hope for, he could hardly hide his relief. Was it possible for Harry to retain such distant childhood memories?   
  
A part of his was happy that Harry had valued him so much, but another part screamed guilt and duty to him. Sirius was disappointed at the lack of friends Harry had; he seemed to have no life outside of the daily ventures at the park (and his visits grew day by day). He must have been deprived for him to accept him so easily. For neglected and deprived children, a large but friendly dog was some sort of sanctuary that hid them from the truth of their realities.   
  
A light touch on his head brought him out of his thoughts. Harry fondly stroked the dog's long hair, his fur still smelling of a field of flowers.   
  
"I don't know if he's a friend though," Harry murmured, leaning back against the trunk of a tree as if sitting cost to much energy. "There's something familiar about him, just like you, but at the same time, something tells me I should be afraid of him. I don't know why. It's strange." Harry paused, his emerald eyes clear as they remembered.   
  
Sirius nudged his cheek for encouragement.   
  
"He's teaching people soccer right now. He just came yesterday, Mrs. Figg's nephew…"   
  
_ What?   
  
_ That story was suspicious. Arabella never had any family that he knew of. It must be someone there to look for him. Sirius swallowed a growl.   
  
"There's something odd about him. He's a…," Harry wrinkled his brow in thought. "I don't know. It doesn't make any sense, but he's familiar."   
  
Sirius stiffened, his body growing numb. Someone Harry knew? A sense of foreboding was seeping into his bones. It couldn't be…   
  
"Remus. He said his name is Remus Lupin."   
  
Sirius stomach all but disappeared. He could see Harry's mouth moving to form words, but none of it registered in his mind. Remus, his friend. His one true friend of all those years that he falsely named a traitor. What would Remus think of him now? Did he believe his guilt? Did he hate him? Sirius desperately wished he could see his friend but was afraid at the same time.   
  
Abruptly, he noticed Harry had finished talking. The boy was looking at him inquiringly.   
  
"Is something wrong?" Harry asked.   
  
Sirius wagged his tail in an attempt to lighten the mood and distract himself, nuzzling Harry in the ribs. But instead of that burst of laughter, Harry uttered a strangled cry. Harry clambered to his feet, but a fit of coughing overtook him, and he hand to catch the trunk of the tree to steady himself. Sirius barked softly in worry.   
  
"Don't…," Harry choked out, but the rest of his words drowned out as he coughed raggedly.   
  
Sirius shifted, walking around him agitatedly. It was all he could do to stop himself from transforming back to figure out what's wrong with Harry.   
  
Harry's coughs were becoming loud and raspy, sounding suspiciously like the boy had received some damage to an area close to his lungs. His whole body shook with the effort, he barely could draw for breath. Then, with a shuddering gasp, his legs gave out beneath him and Harry collapsed heavily to the floor.   
  
The concern immediately became panic. All the caution and fear of being caught was gone in an instant. Sirius found himself kneeling beside his godson without Padfoot's disguise, gently pulling Harry into a sitting position. He wondered how the boy would react seeing him, but whens Harry's head lolled back lifelessly, Sirius' stomach plummeted.   
  
_ He eyes were closed; was he dead? No, he can't be. No. No. No.   
  
_ He breathed a sigh of relief when noticed the steady rise and fall of his chest, but when Sirius pressed his fingers against Harry's neck for a pulse, something caught his eye. Sirius peeled back the collar of his oversized shirt and choked.   
  
Livid bruises, still fresh with the lines of blood, stood out against his pale skin. There were distinct fingerprints against his neck. He unbuttoned the flimsy shirt, trying to examine the extent of the injury, but it another long welt caught his eye. It was thick, but not quite deep enough for a scar. When every inch of cloth revealed a new sea of bruises, Sirius could feel his anger burning to a point past endurance.   
  
_ Harry was hurt. Someone had hurt him! The Dursleys… Vernon!   
  
_ Sirius' breath was becoming more and more uneven, his throat painfully tight. After removing Harry's thin jacket, he could make out distinct strips of blood on his back where the fluid had clotted against the shirt. As gently as he could, Sirius tugged away an fringe of the cloth.   
  
Large streaks of purple weaved between recently healing scars laced through the child's back. A distinct shoeprint could be seen on the fragile ribs. Lines of bruises crisscrossed the skin, Sirius' hand shook when he recognized it: a lingering mark of a leather belt, etched in the six year-old's body. He ran his fingers over the frayed skin gently. Sirius growled low in his throat, the rage rushing through every vein like hot fire.   
  
_ Harry was a child; he never did anything to deserve such a treatment. A completely innocent and naïve little boy, his best friend's son…   
  
_ At that moment, Sirius wanted nothing more than to clamp his canine teeth over that excuse for a muggle and shred him to pieces.   
  
Harry made a small whimper of pain. Sirius drew his hand back quickly, fearful that he had reopened a poorly healed wound.   
  
"Harry?" he whispered gently, brushing a few strands of hair from the boy's face.   
  
Harry flinched under his touch, squeezing his eyes tightly. Sirius chewed his lip; chest constricting painfully. What had the boy gone through?   
  
Sirius pulled the shirt tightly around the boy, and when that didn't seem to be enough, extracted himself from the remains of his tattered cloak and spread it over him. He pulled the small child close, letting Harry rest his head against the crook of his arm. But even in sleep, Harry's face was twisted in a small grimace of pain.   
  
Sirius gritted his teeth, whole body trembling with barely contained rage.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
There's some superficiality in this chapter. I don't know why, maybe it's because I wrote something of similar ideas in Cheating Death and I really didn't want to regurgitate it. I tired to summarize it, but then it seemed a bit… superficial?   
  
sorry, trying hard to finish the rest of the story before break ends so I'll have to cut the replies short (well... shorter than usual)! Ack. I think I'll reply to every other chapter or something to that affect... of maybe... donnuo... ack! I feel so guilty! Sorry! I love all your comments! Thank you all so much!   
  
Urania - see, Padfoot's back! Yup, Remus can't deal with really little kids, can he?   
  
Lindsay - well... you're sort of right with both. He got waylaid by Sirius and beaten by Vernon... as for his uncle, well... you can sort of discern here. evil evil Dursley *growl*   
  
Mihoshe - young Harry's are neat! A lot of people make him really hyper though... humm...   
  
hi - no, don't have a nervous breakdown! *offers caffinee pills* Well, it's break so I've been spitting out these at abnormally high speeds. humm... Harry gets really really intutive later on, and I'm getting a bit worried how he's going to manage *sigh* oh well...   
  
SiriusBPadfoot - well, I almost have this story finished! There's a glitch in the middle that needs some fixing *sigh* Cheating Death will be back in no time! *still stays under desk just in case* Remus sort of reminds me of Harry for some reason...   
  
vmr - thanks!   
  
Lynx - Ooo.. are you on break too? I'm glad you're so enthusaistic! Yay! I hope you enjoyed this part!   
  
Rowena Gryffindor AKA Bob - multi personalityed is good... makes life interesting! *mumbles to self too*   
  
Lucus Juseano Maraud - eh? fake little brother? Well... you'll see... Harry gets really, reaaaaaaaaally creepy towards the end. I sort of did it on accident...   
  
Firedrake - Ooo... that's just scary! Remus with annoying kids around the full moon... eek! PMS (post/pre moon syndrome) definitely.   
  
Hippy Flower - yup! Marshmellows! Ooo.. and Dudley too!   
  
ginny5 - I will!   
  
RJLL - yup! The Dursleys are also more abusive in this AU, so leaving Harry with them is just cruel.   
  
Aali Lyah - Remus is a bit naive though... *sigh* oh well... he does get pissed, doesn't he?   
  
Tilly MercS - evil! You just want me alive because I'll write more *pouts* Maybe I'll hide the rest just out of spite! *cackles evilly* that'll lengthen my life span quite a bit... Remus tortured by brats... wow... that's an interesting mental image.   
  
Sherylyn - Remus does seem a lot more composed in PoA. He's a lot more compulsive in here, it gets worse in later chapters... I try to justify his reasoning, but for some reason, he acts a lot like Harry from Cheating Death. *oops... almost typed in Cheating Harry there for a moment...*   
  
Basilisk - wow, really? Soccer is football and the other way around? humm... I wish Americans would just call football something else, I mean, they don't even use their feet! It's so annoying, I mean, what sort of joke are they trying to pull? grrrrr...   
  
MegumiFuu - yeah! Even as a kid too... poor little guy   
  
Jania - *grins* can't imagine Remus trying to play with them, eek. Noo! *wails* not homework...   
  
Teigra - well... Harry is sort of... humm... Harry with Remus? I can just imagine Harry calmly taking to Voldermort about logic, and exeplifying complete control for that one... Soccer/Football for Dummies? Ooo! That'll be interesting!   
  
Moppet Poppet - oh... my... your hammie is a bit... strange... let's say. Wait... your hammie is purple? Wait.... Sidney is a cat? Eh eh eh eh?   
  
Sidney - uhh... I really don't recommend wetting the keyboard. Are you sure you never? *glares suspiciously* aww... I wouldn't slap Moppet! Wow... what does Moppet feed you? *shakes head disapprovingly*   
  
Bumblebee Bucy - *grins* But Harry's creepy cute... ack! Why do I keep thinking that Harry's creepy?   
  
Phoenix - Thanks! I will!   
  
gjegie - ninety-nine? But then... Sirius would be... *sniff*   
  
Luna Rose - i will!   
  
Allocin - yup! Your dream will be modified slightly though, and it involves... umm... make a guess *cackles evilly* Really? Chapter six was about the same length as the chapter before it, but everyone was saying how short it was... strange. Harry does do accidental magic, but only towards the very end. I'm not telling more though... but lets just say, so far, he's repressed. *nod nod*   
  
Kate Potter - thanks!   
  
AllAboutMe - I will!   
  
Taracollowen - good to see you back! Well, I'm cranking this story a lot faster than Cheating Death, so it'll get choppy later on too. Harry still gets bashed, but I feel so much more guilty bashing him! accccccccccck... eh? Hit yourself when aggravated? That's... not healthy. Ooo.. what song are you listening to?   
  
SasseeSam - well, it's very doubtful that people will believe a little kid, even if he is The Boy Who Lived. umm... hummm... Harry actually has more visions than memories. It gets explained later though... Ack! I just gave it away. You didn't hear that!   
  



	8. of bitter realities

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers. a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
The time frame for this chapter is a bit choppy. The time of the day is listed in front of every scene   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter eight - of bitter realities   
  
  
  
Sirius scrambled through the trees, leaving the trail of angry shouts behind him. He bit down firmly on the water bottle, trapped securely between his teeth. Stealing so openly from muggles was a terrible idea especially with Remus in town, but at that moment, he just didn't care. His godson was lying alone in a shroud of trees, trapped in the fitful sleep with livid bruises branded into his skin, lips parched with thirst. Harry needed help, he desperately needed help.   
  
_I should have know,_ Sirius thought bitterly. _It was so obvious, why hadn't I suspected? I should have stopped this long ago. I should have…_   
  
As much as he wanted to kill the Dursleys in their beds, Sirius couldn't leave Harry on his own. Should he take Harry away? Sirius wished nothing more to just be able to raise his godson, but where would he go? He had no food, no money, no clothes. He'd probably make the child suffer even more. Could he tell Remus? But how would his friend react at seeing him? Or perhaps he should leave Harry at Arabella's and leave, but that would mean he compromise ever seeing Harry again. No doubt they would take him away immediately, and without being able to reveal himself to the boy, Sirius was reluctant. But Harry's injuries weren't life threatening, that much he was certain. He could take him to a muggle physician, and everything out be fine…   
  
_Once Harry wakes up, I'll tell him everything,_ Sirius told himself firmly. _I'll take him away, get him out of this dump… I'll get money from the Gringotts account… buy us some home in the States and get away…_   
  
And that was the thought that kept him from setting fire to 4 Privet Drive. He needed to make a clean disappearance, just take Harry and leave. With luck, the Dursleys wouldn't care and wouldn't report it until weeks later. Sirius felt a small part of him burn with relief and joy of finally being able to raise his godson, but he was still bitter. Angry. Vengeful.   
  
_ Damn them. Damn them. Damn them.   
  
_ Sirius darted through the narrowly grown bushes, a little harder to squeeze through since he first arrived, especially after Harry's daily meals.   
  
_ Harry…   
  
_ That boy had always been trying to help him. Sirius hadn't done anything for him yet, he didn't deserve it…   
  
Sirius jerked to a stop, skidding through the soft soil to leave moist paw prints over the grass. The plastic between his teeth screeched as he grinded his teeth against its surface. Sirius felt his heart log in his throat, his breath coming in short gasps.   
  
It was empty. Harry was gone…   
  
  
  
  
  
  
_ * ten minutes prior *   
  
  
_ Harry stirred awake slowly, consciousness slowly returning. But the moment he regretted it the moment he opened his eyes; pain assaulted his limbs, diggings its claws through his flesh. Harry bit his lip to keep from crying out. They would be furious, and he would be in even more trouble. It was better if he was quiet…   
  
Harry squinted in the light. He tried to raise his hand to block the sun, but his arm hurt just by flexing the muscle. Strange, he never felt so weak and he had received far worse before. Perhaps it was the lack of meals for the past week. The only thing he ate were the fries yesterday, and that he retched after Uncle Vernon kicked him…   
  
Harry groaned, blinking rapidly to bring the world into focus. But instead of the dark, low ceiling of the cupboard, a brilliant, glowing canopy of green met his eyes. Bewildered, Harry lifted his head, taking in his surroundings. It was that shroud of bushes that had been his sanctuary every since Padfoot arrived; Harry recognized the thick layers of tall shrubs. But what was he doing here? Had he fallen asleep?   
  
_ Oh no…   
  
_ He sat up with a jerk, wincing when flashes of pain shot down his back, but the years had taught him to be tolerant. He bit his lip, swallowing a sharp gasp. The grass beside him was crushed with Padfoot's weight, but the clearing was empty without any sign of the dog. Harry swallowed some disappointment.   
  
A tattered black cloak with numerous frayed edges caught his attention; it was wrapped around him tightly, and he wrinkled his brow in confusion. Harry pulled it away, wary of his bruised arms and back, baffled. Whose was this? He certainly did not recognize it. But the glowing numbers on his watch shattered all his other thoughts.   
  
6:46 pm.   
  
It was as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice in his stomach. Harry drew a sharp breath, looking at his watch again. Something wasn't right. He left Privet Drive at 1:30, unless…   
  
Harry scrambled to his feet unsteady, the desperation and fear overwhelming all the pain running through his back. He had slept for half a day! And he missed soccer practice! The Dursleys were going to kill him. He was going to be in so much trouble; Harry shuddered at the thought.   
  
He pushed through the bushes hurriedly, not even checking for Padfoot's presence. He limped across the park as fast as he could. His leg still throbbed every time he placed his weight on it, but it was nothing compared to the fire jostled in his back at every step. All Harry could think of was the reaction Uncle Vernon would have when he found out he spent half the day in the park. He wanted to run away and never go back just to never face him, but he knew he couldn't. There was no one else who would take him; his uncle's constantly reminded him of that.   
  
"Harry!"   
  
He froze.   
  
"Where were you? I was worried something happened."   
  
Harry turned to see the speaker half running across the grass to meet him. He couldn't suppress a small sigh of relief when he recognized the tall man with light brown hair and pale eyes. But then it soon became guilt when he realized the practice he missed.   
  
"Sorry," Harry whispered quickly.   
  
He watched Remus carefully, preparing for that flicker of anger to appear, but there was only a strange sadness that Harry couldn't name and never saw before. The older man returned his gaze searching in silence.   
  
"Are you alright?" Remus asked finally. "You look pale."   
  
Harry nodded, but paused when the movement teased the bruise on his neck and shoulder blades. He couldn't hide the small frown of pain, and Remus noticed immediately.   
  
"Harry, what's wrong?" Remus asked, bending down to examine Harry's face with concern.   
  
Harry instinctively took a step back.   
  
Remus' expression darkened. "Harry, it's okay. You can tell me. I promise I won't tell anyone else."   
  
"No!" Harry shot back. Remus was lying, he just knew it. He would tell someone, someone with pearl white hair and twinkling blue eyes…   
  
  
  
  
  
Remus was shocked into silence for some moments at the reaction he incited. Very slowly, he tried to place a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. But when Harry stiffened and shut his eyes at the gesture even before he touched him, Remus wasn't sure how to act. He placed some distance between the two to be as unobtrusive as possible.   
  
"Harry," Remus began gently. "I don't mind that you didn't come. You obviously aren't feeling well. I can take us out to dinner."   
  
Remus watched the strange mix of hope and fear drift across Harry's young features. Harry shifted uneasily, face downcast.   
  
"But… I can't," he said very softly.   
  
Remus frowned. "Why not?"   
  
Harry chewed his lip, looking up at him timidly. "Uncle Vernon says… it's too much trouble."   
  
"Of course not. I don't mind. I'll go talk to him right now…"   
  
"No!"   
  
Remus was stunned by Harry's reaction. All the color drained from the boy's face, and a tremor ran through his thin frame. Harry took a step back, shaking his head furiously even though it seemed to cause him a lot of pain.   
  
"No… don't. I can't!" Harry choked out desperately.   
  
"Harry," Remus said as soothingly as possible, raising his hands to show that he meant no harm. "I won't. It's okay. I'll…" he broke off sharply when the collar of the battered shirt pulled away from Harry's neck at the movement, revealing a discolored patch of skin. "Harry, what happened to your neck?" Remus asked sharply.   
  
Perhaps it was the one of his voice, but when Remus reached forward to stop the panicking boy, Harry's large emerald eyes filled with a kind of horror and he fled from him as if he was in his werewolf form.   
  
"Harry, wait!" Remus called after him.   
  
But his voice seemed to jolt Harry even more. His leg crumbled under his weight, Harry barely caught himself before he sprawled on the floor. He was on his feet again, running with a kind of mad desperation. Remus hesitated, feeling a mix of confusion and concern.   
  
Something was wrong.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
A bad, bad, bad, bad chapter. Rushed, very rushed, don't you think?   
  
There's a lot of time bending and twisting in this chapter, so it may be confusing after a while. I'm thinking about putting a time thing, like 2 days later, 6 hours later sort of thing. Humm… I tried to off set the time for writing purposes... like, more variation and drama. Tell me if it's effective or just some pathetic attempt.   
  
Murphy's law working overtime. Sirius leaves, Harry leaves and runs into Remus runs of, Sirius comes back just in time to miss both Harry and Remus. Yay.   
  
A late post today, I'm not even suppose to post today. Suppose to do some paperwork for mom... urg... so can't reply! ACCCK! Thank's for all those great reviews though! Gotta sneak off before I get caught...   
  



	9. of bitter realities part 2

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter eight - of bitter realities (part 2)   
  
  
  
Harry realized his mistake the moment he burst through the door of 4 Privet Drive.   
  
"Boy! Where the hell were you?" a gruff voice shouted.   
  
There were loud footsteps banging down the stairs, and Harry paled. He stole a glance at the closed door only a few feet away, fighting the urge to flee. He had learned years ago never to run from his uncle. Things always came out worse that way.   
  
He shouldn't have left. He should have stayed with Remus…   
  
"Well, speak up! Where were you?" Vernon stepped into the living room, fixing Harry with a contemptuous glare.   
  
Harry shifted uneasily, "Sleeping."   
  
"What?!" In three long strides, Vernon reached Harry from across the room and clasped a firm grip on his shirt. "Don't lie to me, Boy."   
  
"It's the truth!" Harry said desperately. "I was tired! I fell asleep!"   
  
"For half a day?! That man came by and asked where you were. I know you weren't sleeping, boy. Sneaking off doing who knows what…"   
  
"I didn't do anything!"   
  
Slap!   
  
That blow came so fast and so unexpectedly that Harry could only blink several moments in surprise. For a moment, all he saw was dancing black spots. He staggered, the blows only two days before still gnawing at his body, and touched his cheek gingerly. Vernon must really be angry; he never struck his face before…   
  
"Are you speaking back to me, Boy?" Vernon's voice was low with warning.   
  
Harry swallowed uneasily, hand pressed against his stinging cheek and glasses askew, silent.   
  
"You've been running off to the park all this week; what were you doing there?" the purple-faced man growled.   
  
Fear chewed at his mind, but Harry forced it out of his face. He couldn't tell! Uncle would be furious if he told, and he may never see Padfoot again.   
  
"Nothi…"   
  
Another blow to the side of his face cut off his words and left a bittersweet aftertaste of blood.   
  
"I'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget. Don't ever run off like that again! I don't want to deal with the neighbors all asking!" Vernon roared.   
  
"But I didn't…"   
  
Another blow cut Harry off abruptly. The child staggered under the force, and would have fallen if the older man hadn't caught him roughly by the collar.   
  
"Shut up! I'm sick of these excuses… all lies, every single one!" Vernon snapped, shaking him roughly.   
  
But the force nearly dragged Harry off his feet. He was so tired, even after that long rest. His heat was light and his vision blurry; Harry blinked, shaking his head to clear it.   
  
"Sorry!" Harry whispered.   
  
"Shut up! I know you're not!"   
  
A sharp kick to his already bruised leg sent him collapsing to the floor. Harry bit back a cry of pain, blinking away the tears that rushed to his eyes. Another blow to his ribs knocked the air out of his lungs and sent fire running through his side. Instinctively, Harry rolled away, coughing as he tried to catch his breath.   
  
"What did I tell you about not moving!" he could hear his uncle say through a fogged mind.   
  
A rough grip pushed him onto his back. Harry could feel a heavy weight settle against his shoulder, his uncle's foot to keep him from squirming.   
  
"… freak… good for nothing…"   
  
Harry could barely make out his uncle's voice through the thick haze of pain.   
  
"…been stealing Dudley's food all week… deserved this long ago…"   
  
_ But he said he didn't want to eat the sandwich… he said he didn't want it! I didn't mean to. I'm sorry!_ Harry wanted to scream out. But if was like Dudley had sat on his chest, Harry could barely strain himself to breathe.   
  
And the first blow came, a sharp, biting pain from a leather belt that ripped across his back against all the clotting cuts from only a day before. It rippled like flames in his blood, and even the nerves in his chest screamed in response. Harry pressed his hand against his mouth tightly, muffling the whimpers of pain. The second missed his back completely and struck high on his neck. Harry recoiled at it, the skin tender against abuse. He could feel the warm fluid trickle down his shirt and into his hair. But by the third, fourth, and fifth, Harry could barely stay conscious to register where it struck. All he knew that a hot brand was being pressed to every inch of skin on his back, and it hurt.   
  
It hurt!   
  
_ Stop. I'm sorry. I won't do it again, I promise. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry,_ Harry wanted to say. But it always came out like a strained sob. _Please stop. Stop! I promise I'll be good._   
  
Harry wasn't sure when the his uncle finally pulled the belt away, or when he finally released his shoulder. But he was jolted from his thoughts when a brusque force slammed into his side again and turned him around. Harry couldn't suppress a whimper when his battered back grinded against the wooden floor.   
  
Another slap. Another punch. All he could do was cover his face defensively and curl up as tightly as he could on the cold floor. His mind was drifting frighteningly close to unconsciousness; he could barely hear the words that Vernon hissed under his breath, or see the fingers in front of his face. Another kick against his side was the last straw. Icy fingers clutched his lungs and spread a haze of film over his eyes, before darkness enveloped him completely.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
Sorry, this chapter's short. It was part of chapter 8 but it didn't really work well in it.   
  
Harry bashing… *sigh* I'm too mean, aren't I? And it's rather descriptive Harry bashing too… and plus he's only six and a half!! Ack! *runs off to hide*   
  
Oh no, I don't have time to reply to this chapter either!! Urg... what's happening?!?!?! The moment I go back to school, the first thing the teachers do is assign tests on Tuesday! ACCCCCCCCK!! Oh well.... at least I posted, right?   
  
Remus is a bit dense, isn't he? *sigh* Poor guy... he's really gonna have his philosophy hit when he finds out. And Sirius... well... what can we say? He's a man of extremes.   
  
umm... looks like everyone wants me to post PoM and WS together. Well... I don't know. PoM would be horribly delayed, since I write in bursts, can't switch gears in the middle. That's how CD died, sort of... in a way. I got too attached to WS. Since WS is not even half way through, I'm not sure if it's a good idea to risk its wellbeing. *grin* but that was a evil cliffie on both stories. Maybe I'll take off a week on WS and go to PoM...?   
  



	10. of unpleasant revelations

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
The time frame for this chapter is skewed again. *sigh* in fact, this entire story has pretty choppy time frames. It cranks up the plot but makes everything a bit confusing, I'm playing with overlapping time frames again so they don't all go in order. You've all had great responses the last time I tried it, ummm… hopefully, this time, it's not overdone.   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter ten - of unpleasant revelations   
  
  
  
Remus knocked on the door perhaps harder than necessary, but the fear for his best friend's son was rapidly turning into regret. He should have ran after Harry yesterday, but he had been so shocked then. He spent all night tossing and turning, and came as soon as it was daylight.   
  
Something wasn't making any sense. That fear and pain in Harry's eyes…   
  
Remus grinded his fist against the wood in an effort to vent his frustration. The door flew open, and a bleary eyed thick necked man stood, glaring at him scornfully.   
  
"What?!" Vernon snapped.   
  
Remus blinked. He was crankier than usual. "Mr. Dursley, I have some questions regarding Harry…"   
  
"That boy!!" Vernon's face seemed to bloat and stain into an alarming shade of purple. "Don't speak of him in front of me!"   
  
Remus took a step back in surprise. "Pardon?"   
  
"That boy, that freak… ran away last night!" Vernon hissed.   
  
Remus gaped. Harry, running away? That wasn't like that shy little boy at all.   
  
"What?" he whispered incredulously. "Are you sure about that?"   
  
Vernon only grunted, looking ready to slam the door against his face again. Remus quickly raised a halting hand, concerned. With the threat of Sirius growing, Harry's survival would be quite grim.   
  
"Where is he? Is he alright?" Remus asked.   
  
"Where? Where?! Do you think I'd still be here if I knew where he was? I'd drive after him and run him over!" Vernon's anger was obvious clouding his judgment. Remus barely hid a scowl, holding back the fist that was itching to plant itself in the man's fat face. "That freak stole my son's clothes, my clothes, food, the first aide kit, and six hundred pounds… six hundred pounds!! That boy was up to something, I should have known it! He was running off to the park all this week, playing with some dog, Dudley says…"   
  
Remus almost stumbled in shock and horror. He caught the doorframe to steady himself. "Dog?" he whispered hoarsely.   
  
"Yes!" Vernon continued, spluttering in his fury. "Dudley says he saw that freak running around the block with some huge black dog that was as large as him or something…"   
  
"Dudley," Remus interrupted. "May I speak to Dudley?"   
  
Vernon frowned. "Well, I suppose. But I don't see how that…"   
  
Remus pushed past him, not bothering to hear the rest of his words. He rushed into the living room, a bit surprised at the sight of a boy the size of a miniature whale. The differences between him and Harry were disorienting.   
  
The boy glanced up at him idly, a piece of oily bacon poking out for the corner of his mouth. "Who're you?" he grumbled.   
  
Remus waved the rude question aside. "Dudley, when did you see the large dog that Harry was with?"   
  
Dudley grinned widely, looking pleased at possibly getting Harry into some more trouble. "On Tuesday, about a week ago. He was walking to Mrs. Figg's house or something."   
  
_ Tuesday? Sirius had been here that long? But that was impossible by foot! Unless…   
  
_ "Was the dog attacking him? Did you see it hurt Harry in any way?" Remus asked desperately.   
  
Dudley's eyes narrowed. "No, but I wish did. Then Harry wouldn't be running off with my food for that stupid dog."   
  
"Harry was…," Remus trailed off, eyes widening in disbelief.   
  
Harry was helping Sirius, the very person who doomed his parents to death? How was that possible? But it made sense, the way Harry only ate the fries and saved the burger of his small meal, the growing thinness each day.   
  
_Sirius, you bastard,_ Remus scowled inwardly. _You're completely taking advantage of the poor boy's naiveté. You're using him, lying to him, fooling him, using his loneliness against him. _   
  
"It followed him everywhere," Dudley continued. "It didn't hurt him though."   
  
"Should have killed him when it had the chance," Vernon growled, listening to his son's words with mounting anger. "I should have broken both his legs yesterday!"   
  
That was too much. Remus could feel something within him snap. With a burst of inhuman strength, he slammed his hand against the table, feeling the wood make a distinct groan beneath it.   
  
"What are you saying? Mr. Dursley, that is no way to speak of your nephew!" Remus nearly shouted. "If you had treated him better, then perhaps he wouldn't have ran! All this was…" he paused. There was a distinct bitter tang in the air that his wolf senses picked up that reminded him suspiciously of…   
  
"Blood," Remus choked out, catching sight of the stain of red beside the closed door of the cupboard under the stairs.   
  
Vernon abruptly stilled. He shifted, blocking the stairs from Remus' sight. "Now, I don't know what you're talking…"   
  
But Remus wasn't listening. He pushed past Vernon firmly, almost knocking the man twice his size to the floor. The bittersweet smell was becoming stronger; Remus stopped at the door, opening the cupboard slowly. The scent of blood was suffocating then, washing over him and drowning him in its thickness. But all this disappeared from his mind the moment he caught sight of the blankets.   
  
"This," Remus jerked the sheet free, stained with strips of dried blood. He lifted it up for Vernon to see. "is Harry's, isn't it?"   
  
Vernon paled.   
  
"You beat him, didn't you?" Remus growled, his voice dangerously soft. These days he kept careful watch in fear that Sirius would somehow hurt Harry, he completely overlooked the very family that Harry needed to be protected against! He had been so blind…   
  
Vernon said nothing, but the strangely satisfied gleam in his eye gave him away instantly.   
  
"I can't believe I didn't notice this sooner! You lock him in a cupboard," Remus almost shouted, slamming the door shut with a force that cracked the wooden frame. "Then you abuse him. You tell everyone how worthless and evil he is. How long have this been? Two years? Three years? Since he arrived in this… this family?"   
  
Vernon seemed to finally find his voice. His eyes narrowed, and he backed away from the seething man cautiously. "You don't understand that boy. He's… he's a freak. He's abnormal."   
  
"Harry's just a boy! How can you say those things?" Remus asked incredulously.   
  
"That boy stole six hundred pounds from my wallet!" Vernon snapped.   
  
"And you deserve to be sued for everything you own for what you did to Harry!" Remus gritted out, his hand trembling as it gripped the bloodstained blanket.   
  
Vernon shut up instantly; he seemed genuinely frightened at that thought. He took another step back, pressing against the wall and staying as far away as possible.   
  
"Listen," he said slowly as if Remus was a little child. "That boy is… a freak. He got what he deserved…"   
  
A resounding crack rang through the room.   
  
Remus drew a sharp breath, trying hard to control the furious trembling in his limbs, nursing a sore fist. Blood was pounding loudly in his ears; he could almost feel his heart pumping erratically with the rage coursing through his veins. Vernon lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, a mass of fat and linen. The lycanthrope enhanced strength was hard to control with such anger; Remus had struck him so hard that Vernon broke the corner of his wooden breakfast table when he fell. Dudley squeaked, hobbling off the chair and running upstairs. All the walls of the flimsy house creaked under his weight.   
  
Remus scowled, hand shaking as he folded the thin and tattered sheet, placing it securely in his pocket. His wand was right there beside it, so tempting, so enticing, he wanted to avada kedevra the muggle right then and there. He had to leave. He had to leave before he did something he seriously regretted. It was so many years since he lost his tempter…   
  
A gleam of light against polished wood.   
  
Remus glanced up, catching sight of the small coffee table beside the sofa. There was something about it that bothered him. He approached it, ignoring the senseless lump of Vernon Dursley nearby, kneeling to examine the article closer. Bloodied fingerprints lined the edge of the wood, fingers too long to belong to a child, too thin to belong to Vernon.   
  
_No..._   
  
  
  
  
  
_ *six hours prior*   
_  
Sirius was close to panic when he returned, only to find the grass around him cold and empty. He wasn't even sure when the child left or where he could go. He couldn't have been going back, those people abuse him, could he? But Sirius already knew with a sinking heart that he would; the child accepted it and he had no where else to go. At the calm exterior Harry presented, Sirius couldn't help but wonder if it was a common occurrence.   
  
He had startled off immediately in the direction of Four Privet Drive after that sneaking suspicion. _  
  
If they even touched Harry again, he was going to kill them! He was going to slit their throats in their bed, who cared about what others would say. Those damn muggles…   
_  
But Harry had never led him to the house before, and the muggle community was a myriad of branching streets. He paced the ground agitatedly, trying to discern the child's scent. He didn't even wonder the reactions of the children who saw a bear-like dog, or consider the possibility of Remus nearby. All he could think of was Harry limping painfully, hurt and vulnerable through the streets.   
  
Sirius had followed it easily enough, but the moment he reached open ground, so many others trampled over and mixed into it. It took hours just finding his way out of the park, and by the time he reached his destination, it was past midnight.   
  
Sirius paused in front of a rather drab, white house with small windows. He transformed in front of the door, either oblivious or just careless to the possible neighbors who would be looking out their windows in the middle of the night. Fished a paperclip out of his pocket, something he picked up running through the streets, and twisted the tapered end in the lock. His hand shaking with rage and apprehension, Sirius barely stopped himself before he flung open the door. He slipped it shut quietly behind him and morphed back into his canine form   
  
… only to catch the bitter scent of blood.   
  
Old blood, about several hours old. But it was thick in the air and permeated through the very walls. Sirius felt as if someone had soaked every inch of his flesh in icy water. He rushed into the living room, following the trail with a kind of frantic desperation.   
  
_ It couldn't be Harry's could it? He couldn't return after all that, could he? They couldn't be that cruel, could they?   
  
… could they?   
  
_ He almost missed the cupboard under the stairs, looking anything but conspicuous, in his rush to find Harry. But when the pungent odor nearly suffocated him as he passed, Sirius jerked to an abrupt stop. He stared at the door incredulously. Surely not…   
  
_ Harry smelled like dusty cupboards. It made sense…   
  
_ Sirius was standing beside the battered door in an instant, back into his human form. He opened the door apprehensively, not even aware if it creaked or not. The biting tang of blood was so strong that Sirius could detect it even without his canine senses. He creaked the old frame open, and a beam of moonlight seeped into the compartment. Sirius stomach all but disappeared.   
  
"Oh god…"   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
Okay, Remus seems a bit compulsive, doesn't he? I mean, all that screaming and banging doors at the Dursleys, he seems a bit like a Snape Sirius cross. Plus, he punched someone… I mean, in all the fics I've read so far, Remus has always been the one to get punched. *sigh* Well, I was thinking along the lines of Remus not so composed. I mean, after discovering that your best friend's son is being abused probably daily, how can he possibly be calm? Maybe it is… uhh… the moon? Perhaps he has moodswings? Well… okay, I admit it, I kind of got carried away. Ack!! Well, what do you think?   
  
Some random news. I've been having serious trouble with PoM, so the chances of that continuing are rather slim. Well, wait, let me rephrase that. The chances of that continuing soon are slim, because I'm not sure what's going to happen later. I hit sort of a block since I never really planned it out. It was just sort of, a moment's burst of inspiration and I never actually planned the plot. I'm an idiot. I wrote up until chapter 6, and so far, the writing quality is… very poor. *hides* It's going to go in hiding until I manage to produce something halfway decent. So I guess that's good news for WS readers! I won't be spending much time on that fic until I get another burst of inspiration. *grin* I'm open to suggestions or ideas!! Originally, I planned PoM to be a character development fic, not much violence, but it doesn't seem very interesting that way. Urg... well... throw some ideas, and hopefully, I'll get rid of the block... thanks for dealing with my annoying moodswinging writing habits.   
  
Ack!! Bio and math and chem test tomorrow... gotta run before I crash them all.   
  



	11. of a road less traveled

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
Ended up uploading the next chapter for PoM anyway. *sigh* that's why this one was about 2 days delayed. Sorry!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter nine - of a road less traveled   
  
  
  
A makeshift bed was fit into the small space, sheets lined with small patches of what looked to be black in the dimly lit room. But that wasn't what caught his eye. A small boy, lying against his chest with one of his arms trapped gawkily beneath him, laid in the enclosure. His shirt was plastered against his back, soaked with patches of both brown and crimson red. Harry's head dangled over the edge, eyes closed but expression anything but peaceful. His body was twisted in an awkward position in the small room, looking as if someone had dumped him there carelessly. Long lashes laced his chest; some cuts were so deep that they had sliced through the very fabric of his shirt. Sirius choked back a cry of rage and disbelief, falling to his knees beside the unconscious boy.   
  
"Harry…" he choked out, his voice so strained that he couldn't even discern it.   
  
_ Oh god… what have they done? How could they…? Harry was just a six year old boy! He was just six years old… how… what… damn them. Damn them!!   
  
_ With a trembling hand, Sirius reached out and touched Harry's cheek softly. The boy's skin felt unnaturally cold beneath his fingers. His face was ghastly pale and his lips were taking a bluish hue. His breathing was ragged and unsteady.   
  
Catching sight of a long overcoat hanging over a kitchen chair, Sirius tugged it free. As gently as he could, Sirius lifted the child from the tainted, cramped space, weary of the shredded skin of his back, and wrapped the frail boy tightly in the coat. Harry's face twisted into a faint contortion of pain, but he didn't so much as to make a sound.   
  
Shaking with suppressed fury, Sirius could barely keep his hands steady. Looking at Harry's battered and blood streaked face, he was suddenly seized by an overwhelming urge to set fire to the flimsy walls, take his godson and just leave. He was so angry and it was so tempting…   
  
Harry must have sensed those thoughts, because his brows knitted into a small frown and he writhed slightly in his godfather's arms.   
  
"No…" Harry choked out, his voice soft.   
  
Sirius' stomach churned at the childish innocence in his tone. "It's alright, Harry," he whispered, resting his forehead lightly against the tangled mop of dark hair. "Nothing's going to happen to you, I promise."   
  
But his actions seemed to aggravate the boy more. Harry whimpered softly and stiffened against his chest. He squeezed his eyes tightly together, but amazingly, did not cry.   
  
"Sorry…" he whispered.   
  
Sirius was silent, words lost in surprise.   
  
_ The Dursleys had hurt him! They beat him, and Harry was apologizing? What had they been telling the poor boy?   
  
_ "What are you talking about?" Sirius couldn't keep the anger out of his tone.   
  
"Sorry… I won't do it again… stop… don't be angry…" Harry turned his face away, squirming weakly.   
  
It was as if someone had squeezed his heart and held it in an icy grip. Sirius drew a shuddering breath, his arms tightening instinctively around his godson. Forget the Dursleys and all the fury that threatened to burst without a moments warning. Forget all those dementors just waiting to suck out his soul. All he wanted to do was take Harry and hide him far, far away where no one could find him.   
  
Carefully shifting the slight weight against him, Sirius stood up. He laid Harry carefully on the sofa, the boy huddling into a tight, protective ball the moment he left his godfather's arms. The thick fluid was still slowly seeping through his shirt; Sirius' tattered sleeve was a dark crimson from where the coat had pulled away. Brushing his fingers lightly over the child's back, his hands came away wet. Sirius could feel his stomach clenching in response.   
  
_ Harry's injuries were serious. How much blood had he lost?   
  
_ Sirius rushed through the bottom story house, eyes finally resting on a basket of folded clothes. He dragged it beside the duvet, using a clean shirt as a makeshift bandage, pressing it lightly against his back. Harry whimpered feebly, and Sirius jerked away.   
  
By the wan countenance and shallow breathing, Harry had obviously lost too much blood for a frail six year old to endure. He couldn't take much more. He needed medical care, that much was obvious. Sirius had to get him out of there, get him away…   
  
He rummaged through the clothes basket, careless of the racket he was making. It a way, he almost wished Vernon would step downstairs, and he would be at leisure to enact vengeance. His hand was just itching to spread over the fat neck of Harry's uncle. Sirius beat it back harshly, but body still shook with rage as he dug through their clothes. He selected a few articles that had a remote chance of fitting himself and peeled off his own tattered robes. Wearing the clothes of Harry's dreaded relative was the last thing he wanted, but raising eyebrows with his grimy black robes was worse.   
  
Nevertheless, he'd still receive some odd looks every now and then. The pants were a several inches short of his ankle and the waistline was twice as wide as his. The shirt gave him an odd sensation of wearing a partly unbuttoned thing even though it was fastened to the collar.   
  
Smaller clothes were folded at the bottom, but they were just as wide as they were long. Sirius just pulled out a few, not really caring and too frustrated to care. Several extra large shirts, a few pants as long as they were wide, a thick jacket that would probably hang about Harry like a cloak, a belt that might just manage to fit on Harry's narrow waist. He stuffed it all in a duffle bag that he nabbed from under the table.   
  
As he stood up, Sirius noticed the fat wallet lying on the dinner table. He grinned, fishing out all the bills and counting the contents with some triumph. Although, Sirius decided, that excuse for a muggle deserved far more punishment than just losing a few pounds.   
  
He stopped at the kitchen, digging through the cupboards for any food that didn't need to be cooked or preserved to be edible. A gleaming white box caught his eye. Sirius squinted at it, and realized with some relief, that if was the first aid thing that Lily always told them to use whenever one of the Marauders got a rather nasty scrape during the summer. He grabbed that and stuffed it in the bag.   
  
The air was suffocating, and becoming thicker by the minute. Just standing in the house made Sirius feel sick, disgusted, irritable. His hands were shaking with impatience, itching to grip the kitchen knife that laid only a drawer away and avenge all the horrors they had put Harry through. But hose muggles hardly deserved the effort, and with Harry lying almost lifelessly on the duvet…   
  
Sirius softened his footsteps as he approached the living room, the milky white moonlight illuminating the small figure, limp. His stomach clenched when he noticed the extreme paleness in Harry's face. Running his fingers soothingly over the boy's forehead, Sirius was alarmed by the clamminess of his skin.   
  
As carefully as he could, Sirius lifted the light form. With the bag dangling from his arm and Harry nested comfortably in his arms, Sirius walked resolutely outside. It was strange to feel the wind without the thick fur of his animagus form, but he didn't even notice. Harry whimpered when the movement jolted the abused skin of his back, shifting feebly. Sirius swallowed, examining the pallid complexion with unease.   
  
_I shouldn't have taken so long,_ Sirius thought angrily. _I should never have waited. I should have taken him away the moment I arrived a week ago._   
  
  
  
  
  
Sirius' hand shook as he attempted to bandage the harsh streaks of frayed flesh; every whimper the child made sent anger fire down his spine. The uneven jerks and bumps of the muggle vehicle only aggravated it, making Harry wince in pain every time his body was jarred.   
  
"I'm sorry," he whispered under his breath, his words choked in his throat. "I'm so sorry."   
  
Sirius rearranged the overcoat, wrapping Harry tightly in its folds, pulling his godson closer. The boy was pale almost beyond recognition, his skin like thin paper that would break at the lightest touch. Even now and then, he would shiver violently and fall limp again. Sirius ran his fingers over the child's cheek, wincing when he felt how cold the boy was. Harry seemed almost lifeless if it wasn't for his slow and shallow breathing.   
  
Sirius couldn't ignore the nagging suspicion that something was wrong with the boy. Harry was hurt far more than his exterior appearance. Those cuts couldn't affect him this much, could they? But the amount of blood that was soaked into his shirt…   
  
Sirius chewed his lip worriedly, the anger against the Dursleys rapidly replaced by fear for his godson. Harry needed medical care, and fast. But Sirius knew nothing about healing, he didn't even have his wand. He couldn't call a doctor from the wizarding world without giving away both their identity completely, and leaving Harry was the last thing he wanted.   
  
"Sir, we're here."   
  
Sirius nodded at the taxi driver distractedly, handling over few bills.   
  
"Can you drop us off at a hotel of some sort?" Sirius hoarsely asked.   
  
The cab stopped in front of a drab-looking structure with blinking neon lights that muggles seem to be so attached to. It stood on the outskirts of the bright city, looking small and insignificant. But Sirius barely took in its appearance as he walked into the building, his godson in his arms. Harry shuddered when the cold morning air brushed against him, moaning softly.   
  
"It's going to be alright soon, Harry. Just hold on," Sirius whispered, hugging the small child tighter.   
  
He shoved the door open roughly, making the sleeping receptionist jump in surprise. Harry didn't even respond at the movement, his body only slumping further into sleep.   
  
"What is it now? Could you…?" the lady began irritably. But one glance at Sirius' blanch and frantic face and the lifeless bundle in his arms shut her up instantly.   
  
"I need a doctor," Sirius choked out, voice laced with anxiety. "I have a child whose very, very sick. I need a doctor immediately."   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
Umm... why doesn't someone recognize Sirius, and why can he go barging around? Well... Fudge originally hid the news of Sirius' escape to save his reputation (see chapter 2 or 3, can't remember which), so the world doesn't even know he's on the run but Dumbledore, some top notch ministry folk, Arabella, and Remus. With The Boy Who Lived disappearing because of his incompetence, he'll be even more motivated to hide it to save himself. That bastard…   
  
Doesn't flow well between paragraphs... urg. Of Western Stars isn't as in depth here as Cheating Death *sighs* There was a lot of other ideas I wanted to add, but I was afraid it would be too repetitive of my old story. Maybe I should have followed my other idea altogether and chosen a new and nonrepetitive theme.   
  
Something in this chapter seems lacking, doesn't it? There wasn't a mental link between some of Sirius' actions, it was just a bunch of imagery.   
  
Plot bunny went running. It took me 11 chapters to set him free though.   
  
Sirius seems out of character. He's too calm, it seems like something Remus might do if he was ever on the run, rob the house of everything before leaving. *sigh* I really didn't want Sirius to run around muggle London without any money and with Harry in need of medical attention, that'll just be sad. And plus, Sirius was too compulsive then to think about running over to Remus'. *sigh*   
  
Sirius should have done something to the Dursleys though. Humm… but imagine Remus' mindset if he goes to the Dursleys the next morning and find everyone dead in their beds and Harry missing... definitely not.   
  
Nicky - well... I'm not telling! *grin* Amazingly, Sirius left the Dursleys intact to meet Remus the next morning, and Remus' the one who takes his anger out on them. It's a strange role reversal... Ack, as for PoM... it's more character development ish... and I think it's being dragged out too long.   
  
vmr - thanks!!   
  
Linsday - Well... Harry's not doing so well... especially since he starved himself for a week prior. WS is actually about 26 - 28 chapters. It's pretty long... is that good or bad?   
  
Lynx - thanks!! umm... Sirius... well... I don't know any places in England, so the town's not named. Thanks for being so understanding for PoM!   
  
SiriusBPadfoot - it is... Remus hating anyone is wrong. Urg... chem!! Well... it's mostly math, so it's not that bad... well... sorta... *wails*   
  
venus4280 - it gets explained here. *grin* the next part stretches quite long though... ack... 28 chapters or so... *bangs head against keyboard*   
  
Lady of Arundel - oh... I wasn't even thinking about that... ack! It's a really good point... I don't think Remus would be so optimistic after this, poor guy. Sometimes, I feel more sorry for Remus having that sort of survivors' curse.   
  
Sandrine Black - Vernon deserves a lot more punishments... grrr... that guy is just... grrr... I'm sure if he remained conscious, Remus would have punched him again *cackle*   
  
Bumblebee Bucy - thanks!! I'm glad that you find Remus believable, that guy is extremely hard to characterize, and I keep writing Remus sort of hysterical. CD for example... and then PoM... oopsie.   
  
Teigra - *grin* well... things happen that are sort of weird in PoM that drives James/Harry to an edge, but I shouldn't be telling you that. Sirius is going to have a hard time with little Harry in WS though...   
  
nell - WS is a bit of an AU so Vernon's even worse in this fic than the actual book. Vernon's treatment of Harry is ridiculously... what's a good word to describe... urg... donnuo   
  
clingon87 - they will! *grin* it's fun writing their interactions   
  
Tilly & MercS - *grins* Remus deserves a big pat on the back for what he did... should have punched that piece of lard a couple more times. Yupz! Sirius has Harry, although now, he's in a bit of trouble with the state that Harry's in. And then he has to deal with explaining to Harry... well... it'll be... *cackle* Donnuo if its a good idea to stretch out the Sirius and Harry interaction 'cause it might get boring like what happened in CD... but Harry's so emotionally scarred otherwise, it wouldn't make sense... *groans* a dilemma...   
  
Berkeley Halperin - love the email address! Sirius playing the overprotective godfather again. *grins* Remus should have beaten Vernon a lot more...   
  
Hippy Flower - I will!! waah... don't cry!! It wasn't that sad... was it? *offers tissues*   
  
Krissy - I will!! This is definately a story that I'll finish, I donnuo about PoM right now, but WS will be completed! Thanks for adding WS on your fav. story list!   
  
fairygirl - yeah, I can imagine Remus exploding every down and then just because he's so repressed.   
  
Firedrake - well... I kinda didn't want Remus to knock and find the Dursley household dead and Harry gone... that'll just be... disturbing. Glad you found Remus believable!   
  
Lily Potter - humm... Remus is still a bit repressed, isn't he? I mean, he gets pissed enough to bang on doors to relieve anger, and only punches Vernon once... well, of course, he's a lot stronger than most humans, but still! *sigh* he needs one of those stress relievers...   
  
Chuckles - the blood imagery is repeated a lot in the next chapter as well, and after that, it's eyes. They're hard to find synomyns for though... urg... *grin* Remus was really calm after he punched Vernon too... well... I didn't notice that until later... oopsie.   
  
Keara Jordan - Yup! Sirius rescued little Harry, but now Harry's in a bit of trouble. *sigh* poor kid, he's been through quite a lot already.   
  
Lady Foxfire - thanks!! I'm spitting out chapters for WS pretty fast, so you don't hafta wait very long. I hope you enjoy the rest of it!   
  
Giesbrecht - thank you!! I hope this story will still hold your attention in later chapters too!   
  
Psyches - thanks!! It's sort of tricky tracing little Harry's development, hopefully, he stays believeable in later chapters. ack... it's really hard...   
  
Taracollowen - Sirius does have Harry, and in a rather bad condition too. The logical thing to do is obviously go to Remus... but... *sigh* that's not like Sirius.   
  
Kat - *grin* that's the fun part... especially after Remus told Harry about Sirius being evil... *cackle* uhh... ignore that...   
  
Indarae - yeah, Remus seems to be the type who would live both in the past and present, try to forget and try to remember at the same time. He's a man of contradictions, a very interesting character that Rowling needs to write more about. Its hard imagining him as someone who played pranks...   
  
moppet poppet - *grins* it is something interesting!! Ooo... tell Syndey I said hi! And give her less caffine!   
  
TheRedFeatheryPlug - yeah, rather unfortunately... Harry's been rather poorly treated...   
  
Harriet - well, I tried to make the characters as dynamic and as believable as possible, and I guess it made it seem unfortunately realistic. Children with that sort of domestic life and that sort of treatment... its so hard to imagine what life must be like for them   
  
Midori-sama - Eh? wait! Sirius isn't hurt! He's perfectly fine *holds out Padfoot* see? It's okay! Don't faint!   
  
Shinigami - Harry's willing to trust Padfoot because something about him seems familiar, and plus, he's a dog. Harry has bad expereinces with people. Well... things aren't usually that simple, bumps along the way makes things more interesting *grins evilly* as for Harry's reaction, well... you'll see.   
  
Luna Rose - yeah, it'll be interesting. A very pissed off Remus is fun to write though   
  
Child of Two Worlds - I update like crazy when I'm on a roll... then I sort of die off in the middle, like CD... its sad... Remus and Sirius sorting things out... yeah... you know, I have this horrible urge of making Remus irrationally pissed off at Sirius, and it's leaking into my writing. *sighs and presses delete key* Write faster and post more for your story!! It's murderous to wait! *glares*   
  
Mihoshe - I will!! It's sort of hard trying to end WS... donnuo where this plot will go... ack  
  
Carey - thanks! I will!   
  
CatC10 - Oooo... ok, lets see, umm... 6, 9, 13, 19, 28, 33. Sun card? Is that good? humm... I don't know anything about fortune readings...   
  
Poke me, I'm done - humm... interesting pen name! Does it have a double meaning?   
  
gwen - well... Sirius left the Dursleys intact... can't kill them! then Sirius'll be in trouble...   
  
Sherylyn - yeah, Remus does seem a little less composed in WS than PoA huh... with all the yelling at little kids and the like. Esp. since Harry's still a pretty important person too...   
  
Slytherin Sweetheart - wait! No!! nothing bad happened, see? no need to be angry... uhhh... right?   
  
Phoenix - thanks!!   
  
kelly - thank you!   
  
livic88 - I will!   
  
SasseeSam - yeah, poor kid. Ack... he's going to be so emotionally scarred...   
  
Tammy, Kiki, AllAboutMe - see Tammy, you're not last! Nope, don't kill the Dursleys Kiki, you'll be arrested on charges of manslaughter. Thanks Sarah! And WS started out pretty lighthearted too...   
  
Me - thanks!   
  
ginny5 - I will!   
  
Kate Potter - I will! WS will not go on hiatus... hopefully, esp. after the little block with PoM.   
  
Lassy D - I'm glad you find Remus believeable! humm... it's fun seeing the usually composed werewolf explode once in a while... since in PoA, he's so.. mellow.   
  
Allocin - *grins* really? I had no clue how much things are priced there. I was thinking along the lines of $600, and in the US, that won't last for more than a week. *sigh* now that Harry needs medical care, they can't go very far. How much do hotel rooms usually cost around there? humm... Sirius has his gringotts account to fall back on, and then he can book a plane ticket. humm... Oo... Harry gets insights when something reminds him. You know those times you have a dream, but you don't remember it until something happens that reminds you of it? That's the sort of thing Harry has. That's why he was able to recognize Remus as what he was, and thought he was familiar. humm... it's not too far fetched is it? McGonagall does get referred to as cat lady... actually, it's more like tabby cat lady. *cackle* Dumbledore becomes that old man in the fireplace. *laughs evillly* I shouldn't be telling you that.   
  
kaydee - PoM chapter 3 is pretty much polished, but it's not very good. I'll probably post it sometime this week. I have some plans for it, but I'm afraid it's not going to be very much of an action based plot. What kind of story do you have in mind?   
  
oceansun - thanks!   
  
Jayde - thank you!   
  
Asian Goddess05 - I will!   
  
Arabwel - I'm glad you think so! Remus seems really high strung doesn't he...   
  



	12. of unfavorable results

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
Sorry about the excessively long a/n last chapter!! Got carried away... *hides*   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter twelve - of unfavorable results   
  
  
  
Sirius leaned over the edge of his chair, trying to catch a glimpse of anyone making his way down the hall through the partly opened door. He was reluctant to leave the boy. Harry was growing less and less responsive to his words, the life draining from him even though the bleeding had been stanched hours ago. His skin was so pallid that he seemed to almost bleed into the bleached bed sheets. Even his normally untamed hair lost its wildness, caught against his clammy skin in thick locks. His body grew colder by the minute. Gently, so not to jar the inflamed skin on his back, Sirius enveloped the child into a lose embrace. He rubbed the thin arms to bring some warmth and blew on the small hands.   
  
Loud footsteps echoed through the room. Sirius was alert immediately, the fear of being caught as an escaped convict forgotten hours ago.   
  
The door was flung open, and Sirius breathed a small sigh of relief.   
  
A doctor, a young man in his early thirties with warm brown eyes and smoothly trimmed hair, stumbled in the room with less than usual dignity. His eyes were bloodshot, but he seemed perfectly composed at being aroused at such an odd hour. He froze the moment he caught sight of Harry, looking lifeless as he leaned against his godfather.   
  
"What happened to him?" the doctor whispered.   
  
Sirius swallowed thickly, "Forget questions, can you help him?"   
  
The doctor stopped beside the bed, lifting a budging bag and dropping it heavily on the floor.   
  
"Could you lay him back down?" the man asked smoothly, all the previous shock gone.   
  
Carefully, Sirius lowered the limp child against the bed, trying to ignore the way his head fell back lifelessly. He watched the stranger unbutton the oversized shirt, the man's face darkening. He drew a sharp breath when the red stained bandages glared back at him, livid bruises carved in flesh.   
  
Sirius tensed, inwardly wincing at the sight.   
  
"Sir, could you please step outside?" the man said slowly.   
  
Sirius shook his head firmly. "I'm not leaving."   
  
The man's head snapped up, looking just as flustered as he was. There was an angry suspicion in those eyes, but Sirius was too preoccupied to notice. "Sir, the boy's condition looks very serious. I suggest if you want to do this child any good, you step outside!"   
  
Sirius chewed his lip, but as the doctor continued to glare, stood up reluctantly.   
  
  
  
  
  
Half an hour later, Sirius paced back and forth in the narrow hotel room hall, throwing uneasy glances at the closed door. Since the time, and he couldn't hear so much of a whisper from the room. It was deathly silent, so silent that it frightened him.   
  
Sirius ran a hand roughly through his hair in frustration. Harry couldn't die, could he? He didn't look that bad when Sirius first left the Dursleys with him. His condition steadily worsened as time wore on, but it never occurred to him that it was that serious.   
  
_ Please, let Harry be okay. He wasn't sure if he could deal with the guilt otherwise. First Lily and James, and now Harry! He'd be condemned for the rest of his life. He'd never be able to live with himself…   
  
_ "Sir?"   
  
Sirius spun around, nearly attacking the doctor in his trepidation. "How is he?" Sirius asked breathlessly. "Is he going to be alright?"   
  
The doctor seemed unfazed by his reaction, seemingly used to these violent responses. He pushed stopped Sirius from rushing into the room, keeping a firm hand on his arm. "The boy is stable," the man said slowly. His words were purposefully vague. "You should have called me hours ago. It's fortunate that there's no infection, otherwise, he might not be able to pull through."   
  
"Is it that serious?" Sirius asked, paling at the realization.   
  
The doctor frowned, "His injuries wouldn't be that serious by itself, but he's suffering from anemia. With his blood sugar count, I'm guessing he probably hadn't eaten for the past few days. His blood wasn't clotting. He lost a lot of blood, and his body isn't taking to the damage well. A blood transfusion would be recommended, but that would be available unless he's at a hospital…"   
  
Sirius drew a sharp breath, hands clinched so tightly that they shook. "Is he… going to be alright? Will he recover?"   
  
The doctor examined his face carefully for a moment before answering. "He hasn't been very strong even before these injuries. It's been a rather severe blow on him. That boy needs a lot of care right now. But given time, he should be able to make a full recovery. Although it isn't compulsory, I suggest you take him to a hospital."   
  
Sirius hesitated. Bringing Harry to the hospital would mean he probably wouldn't be able to see him. It would risk never seeing his godson again, and possibly Harry's return to the Dursleys. He scowled bitterly at the thought.   
  
"No, I'll take care of him," Sirius said firmly.   
  
The doctor's eyes narrowed in an oddly calculating way. "Are you related to the boy?"   
  
Sirius paused, swallowing uneasily. "No… Yes, I'm his godfather."   
  
The doctor frowned, lips set in a grim line. "Who are his parents?"   
  
Sirius flinched. "They're dead," Sirius whispered, voice strained. "They died a long time ago."   
  
"Does he live with you?" the doctor asked.   
  
Sirius grimaced, turning away. "No, Harry lives with his aunt and uncle." His voice bore traces of suppressed rage.   
  
At his bitter tone, the doctor nodded understandingly. "I suggest you contact the police and report the case of child abuse."   
  
"I can't," Sirius said slowly, but it was so tempting to finally punish those muggles. "I… I'm not suppose to be in custody of him. As far as I know, his aunt and uncle don't know I took him out of their house tonight."   
  
"That's rather complicated," the doctor whispered, brows knitted in a way that reminded him of Dumbledore. "You could be charged on the case of kidnap for this."   
  
"They were abusing him!" Sirius hissed, all his anger rushing back at the doctor's seemingly careless words. "I wasn't going to stand beside and just watch because I was afraid of being arrested."   
  
The doctor didn't respond, his brown eyes watching him with a strange intensity. Suddenly, he smiled. "I understand. He's lucky to have a godfather like you."   
  
Sirius' throat tightened at those words, wanting desperately to tell the doctor how much he was wrong. He followed him numbly back into the room, stilling at the sight that met his eyes.   
  
Harry laid on the bed, eyes closed in a heavy slumber, his breaths still soft, but deeper and more even. The blankets seemed to swallow his small form. His skin suddenly was even more washed out and pale than before in the bright lamp light. A thick cloth was wrapped around one of his wrists tightly, hiding the boniness of his arm from view. A bag of clear fluid was suspended by a metal contraption that Sirius didn't recognize, a long tube stretched from it, a needle attached to the end that was embedded deep in Harry's skin.   
  
Sirius ran his fingers over Harry's thin arm, tracing the needle with some bewilderment. Wasn't it cruel, hurting an already injured boy? But the doctor took no notice of the fury flashing through his eyes.   
  
"You need to keep him on the IV until he can eat by himself. He needs to build up his blood sugar before he starves or dehydrates," the doctor explained, his tone strictly professional.   
  
"What's… what's wrong with his arm?" Sirius asked shakily, glancing at the thick swabs of cloth encasing Harry's hand.   
  
"His wrist is very badly strained, a cast would be better for it. There could be a hairline crack in it, but without an x-ray, I really can't be sure. His left leg is heavily bruised as well. There could be bone damage, although…" the doctor trailed off, looking weary. When he spoke again, he seemed to be speaking to himself distractedly. "I'll bring a portable ultrasound and some plaster later. I wasn't prepared for something like this. But I can't cast his arm or ankle until after the swelling recedes. It's going to be difficult…"   
  
"How long…" Sirius slowly said.   
  
"Two weeks, at least. I would be careful about moving him anytime this week; his ribs are bruised and possibly broken. There aren't any internal injuries; it's practically a miracle considering all those…" the man frowned but composed himself quickly. "The… cuts on his back are already bandaged, but they need to be changed twice a day or else they might infect. Lying on his back will be painful for him, but he can't lie on his side without jostling his ribs. The most I can do for him is to provide some painkillers."   
  
_Two weeks?_ Sirius frowned. He shouldn't have taken him to a muggle doctor, he should have gone straight to Hogwarts. But how could he explain? What if they didn't believe him? What if they took the child away?   
  
Sirius said nothing, taking the small hand in his own. Harry was hurt far worse than he ever expected; the chances of such a young child fully recovering from something as serious as this…   
  
Sirius cleared his throat shakily. "The blood that he lost…"   
  
"It's not life threatening. He'll be very tired and his immune system is weak; I recommend keeping him inside for at least a week or so," the doctor paused, pulling out an orange bottle, "These are antibiotics in case he gets an infection, but don't give him any unless you're sure he's sick. I left some high protein powder on the table; make sure he gets a dose twice a day."   
  
Sirius nodded in response, but he was only half listening.   
  
"Call me if he doesn't show any signs of improvement. I'll be back to check on him tomorrow." The doctor paused on his way to the door, watching him sympathetically for a moment. "I respect patient confidentiality. If anyone questions me of a missing boy, I'll be sure to tell them I've met no such person."   
  
Sirius barely even registered those words; and when the meaning finally sunk in, the doctor was already gone. He would have sighed in relief if the situation hadn't been so grave.   
  
He stood unmoving beside Harry's bed, watching the closed eyes, unshielded by the round glasses. Sirius pushed a few strands of hair from Harry's face, brushing against the uneven flesh of the curse scar. It was frightening to see such a lively boy, so excited and full of life only days before suddenly drain into a wasted body, so wan and ill.   
  
_This was your fault, you know,_ said that small voice in the back of his mind. _If you had revealed the truth to him earlier and taken him away from that place. Or if you had escaped sooner, instead of moping for five years. Or if you hadn't asked James to switch, this wouldn't have happened…_   
  
Sirius sat down heavily beside the bed. His chest clinched, his breath stained in his throat, he buried his face in his hands.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
Plotline hits dead water. It's kind of like CD where the plot does a little dip into slowness, since I'm trying a bit character development. I hope it doesn't die in the process…   
  
The doctor wasn't too bad, see? He was quite willing to be understanding. Although he did kick Sirius out of the room because he was suspicious, but still…   
  
Umm… there's an explanation for Harry's condition to be so serious. For a boy six and a half who already probably suffers from a bit of malnutrition, his body can't take much serious damage. On top of that, he suffers from regular abuse. Plus, he practically starved himself for a week before getting beaten up two times in a row, the second leaving a mass of cuts that can't clot because of his low blood sugar. So his condition is actually quite plausible, although a fever and internal bruising would have made more sense, but that's just too mean…   
  
Sorry about PoM. I'm really, really, really sorry!! But the AP's are coming up, and I won't be able to write as much. *sighs*   
  



	13. of the question of trust

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
Short chapter, but the word count is quite high for some reason. Humm…   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter twelve - of the question of trust   
  
  
  
"Remus, you're sure about that?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes dark with an angry fire.   
  
"Yes. Vernon practically admitted it to my face. They lock him in a cupboard, and I found the sheets bloody," Remus whispered, voice muffled against his hands.   
  
Dumbledore was silent, his face darkening into an emotion of regret. The blue eyes were almost a dull grey, and his shoulders sagged with a weariness beyond his age.   
  
"I should have taken him out of that place sooner," Dumbledore said softly.   
  
Remus was silent, running his hands over his eyes resignedly.   
  
"Harry had bruises yesterday. They must have abused him for… oh god, I don't even know how long ago they started," Remus finally said. Suddenly, he clenched his fists. His shoulders shook as he spoke, and his words carried an audible tremor. "Why didn't I notice it sooner? It was so obvious! The signs where right in front of my face, and I hadn't even considered that they could be… physically abusing him…"   
  
Dumbledore sighed sadly, looked at his former pupil with an unreadable expression. "Remus, it's not your fault."   
  
Remus shook his head, face still hidden in his hands. "No, there's more. Sirius broke into the Dursleys last night and took Harry."   
  
"He what?" Dumbledore's voice carried a dangerous edge, but the fury carefully controlled in his face was unnerving. Remus could feel his skin prickling and the hair rising at the back of his neck in response. There was a dull thud, as if the headmaster had knocked something to the ground in his shock.   
  
"Sirius kidnapped Harry last night…" Remus repeated hoarsely. "Apparently, he's been here for a week…"   
  
He broke off abruptly, but his mind was screaming at him to speak on. He just couldn't bring himself to tell the headmaster of those marauding years. It would be admitting to betraying Dumbledore's trust those years at Hogwarts.   
  
_ You're so selfish. Tell him! _The voice in his mind was yelling,_ It could mean Harry's life and death!_   
  
But before he couldn't even bring himself to open his mouth again, the headmaster's expression darkened further.   
  
"What?" Dumbledore's voice was almost a low growl.   
  
"Sirius is…" Remus swallowed thickly. "an animagus."   
  
He waited for the headmaster's response, but there was none. Looking up, he found the man watching him with the a searching, yet understanding gaze. There was no anger, no disappointment. Remus drew a deep breath and continued, explaining the plans of his closest friends, of James, Sirius, and Peter. Of their desire to help a friend and at the lengths that they took. Remus was surprised to find Dumbledore only reacting only mildly, as if he suspected it all along.   
  
"But, Sirius didn't hurt Harry at all. By what the child told he, he's quite fond of James' son. It… oh, I don't know," Remus sighed wearily. Things were becoming more and more complicated by the minute.   
  
Dumbledore frowned in thought. "He never hurt Harry."   
  
"No! That's the part that doesn't make any sense," Remus choked out with some frustration. All the stress of the week and the past that returned to haunt him was eroding the calm exterior that he carried. "He could be lying to him, but… that still doesn't make any sense."   
  
"No, it doesn't," Dumbledore sighed.   
  
"I thought he may have been using Harry at first, but…," Remus shook his head angrily. "Sirius was imprisoned for five years, and when he finally escapes, he just bides his time? That's not the way he is! Sirius isn't patient, he'd act immediately! If he wanted Harry dead, he'd be dead long ago. I would never have made any difference…" Remus chewed his lip, biting is so hard that he could taste the bitter tang of blood. "And now, Sirius kidnapped him…"   
  
He fell into muteness as he stared into the palm on his hands. Remus drew a shuddering breath, unclenching his bloodless fingers. Harry needed help, he couldn't even guess how badly the child was hurt. And with someone so young and frail, Remus wondered how much Harry could endure before breaking. He was at a murderer's mercy, a cold-blooded mass murderer who betrayed his best friends. He desperately hoped that Sirius somehow had a change of heart, and would help James' son. Harry was so young and innocent, looked so much like his father; perhaps, just perhaps, Sirius would hesitate…   
  
But after realizing the extent of his misjudgment with Harry's relatives, Remus found it hard to be optimistic.   
  
  
  
  
  
A soft moan.   
  
Sirius jerked awake late in the afternoon the next day, blinking blurriness out of his grainy and dry eyes. His back cracked in protest of the rough treatment of falling asleep in a chair. He moved closer to the bedside, watching the boy intently.   
  
"Harry?"   
  
The boy flinched, shifting awkwardly as he tried to turn away.   
  
Sirius drew back cautiously; Harry's reaction was disturbing. He had never seem the child so frightened by people, he never recoiled like that when Sirius was in his Padfoot form. How much did those muggles do to traumatize the poor boy?   
  
"It's okay. Everything's going to be okay," Sirius said as reassuringly as he could.   
  
Harry didn't seem to respond at first. But convulsively, his arm jerked and his eyes fluttered open. Sirius held his breath, waiting for Harry's reaction on seeing a stranger at his bedside, but his godson seemed to tread on the edges of consciousness. His eyes didn't focus and they darted around the room nervously.   
  
"Harry, do you recognize me? It's…," Sirius hesitated for a brief moment, "Padfoot. Do you remember?"   
  
That seemed to catch his attention. Harry turned his head slowly, eyes stopping on Sirius' face, but they were hollow and unseeing. He didn't cringe when Sirius brushed a few strands of hair from his eyes.   
  
"Padfoot?" Harry echoed, his voice so soft that Sirius could barely hear.   
  
His voice was strained with a strange sort of desperation, his eyes glazed and distant was they stared up at the ceiling. But then his eyelids dropped, his body slackened, and his head fell limply against Sirius' hand.   
  
  
  
  
  
Through the course of two days, the shabby hotel room was slowly transformed into a muggle clinic. The bed sheets were bleached and sterilized, the curtains drawn and air conditioning refiltered, and specialized machines were localized to constantly check the child's blood sugar and body temperature.   
  
Those days passed without any sense of day or night. The curtains were constantly drawn, and Sirius knew the time no better than how many times he nodded off into a fitful sleep and how many times he jerked awake only to an unresponsive child in front of him.   
  
It was unnerving; Sirius had never seen a six year old so silent. He never made a sound when Sirius moved him to change the bandages. Once in a while, the boy would awake and mumble incoherently, but fall asleep again. The hopes of seeing Harry as the laughing child running through Arabella's trampled garden again was rapidly melting away. Sirius found himself thinking numerous times how he could contact Remus and get Harry to St. Mungos, but he bring himself to carry it out.   
  
Then on the third day, Sirius opened his eyes, adjusting to the dim light of the room to find Harry's eyes wide open. They were fixed on him unblinkingly, but by the way he squinted, his eyesight was too poor to distinguish anything without glasses. But he visibly cringed when Sirius jerked up, shrinking deep under the covers. A soft whimper of pain escaped his lips when that movement jostled his side and crushed his ill-treated back against the bed.   
  
"Harry," Sirius whispered gently, disturbed by his reaction. He bent forward, but hesitated to touch the child. "It's alright."   
  
The boy made an indiscernible sound in the back of his throat, struggling to move his unresponsive limbs. Sirius carefully slid the glasses over his face, and the child blinked.   
  
Sirius held his breath, waiting for a response. He silently hoped that Harry's memories of Padfoot carried over to him as well, but that seemed to be asking too much. Harry froze when the strange man at his bedside under the unfamiliar ceiling finally came into focus, eyes widening larger than Sirius thought was possible.   
  
He looked at Sirius fearfully for a long time but never uttered a sound. Sirius considered with some amount dread, of the possibility that Harry's trauma had damaged him so much that he became mute overnight.   
  
Sirius bit his lip; he reached out to smooth the child's hair. "Relax, Harry. I'm not…," Sirius broke off when Harry recoiled, turning away from his outstretched hand.   
  
"Harry, it's alright. We're not at the Dursleys, they can't hurt you anymore," Sirius said, but he couldn't mask the bitter anger in his voice. "You're not going back there ever again, okay?"   
  
But Harry was still stiff under the covers, even though tensing the muscles on his back obviously caused him a lot of pain.   
  
"Relax, Harry. It's better if you don't try to move," Sirius told him quietly. "I'll get you something warm to drink, okay? It'll help with the pain."   
  
The child didn't respond, but Sirius wasn't expecting one. He stood, making a careful attempt to move slowly, and poured a cup of the lukewarm water from the coffee machine. He had kept it boiling with the can of powder from the doctor, waiting for the child to awake.   
  
"This isn't very warm anymore, but it should be alright," Sirius murmured as he sat down again. He was speaking mostly to shatter the silence between them, but couldn't help feel awkward at the one sided conversation. In the past, it was always Harry who spoke, but suddenly without Padfoot, Harry became quiet. "I'm going to move you a little bit, tell me if it hurts, okay?"   
  
He reached forward, but at the lightest touch, Harry flinched and closed his eyes. It was like he was expecting to be hit at any moment, and Sirius couldn't help but wonder exactly how deep those emotional scars ran. He lifted the boy slowly; the child's head limply fell back as if he lost all the strength in his body. Sirius gently supported his head against his shoulder, and held the cup to his lips. Harry twisted away from the proffered mug, struggling weakly. He seemed terrified of it somehow, as if the whole thing was a trick to get him in trouble.   
  
"Is something wrong?" Sirius asked, concerned.   
  
Harry seemed delirious with his brightened gaze. But slowly, he turned and sipped at drink tentatively, eyes never leaving his Sirius' face. Harry was awkward at such treatment, drinking a few mouthfuls before pulling away. He was obviously having difficulty swallowing, it seemed to cause him pain just to try. Sirius shifted the child to ease the stress, but at the slight movement, Harry cried out in pain.   
  
Sirius winced inwardly. He froze, unsure of whether to lay him back down and possibly hurt him more. He whispered words of apology and reassurance.   
  
Harry was still, eyes tightly shut and making no response that he actually heard those words. But Sirius could feel him trembling, whether in pain or fear he wasn't sure.   
  
"I'm sorry," Sirius whispered again. There were a million things he wanted to apologize for.   
  
Slowly, Harry opened his eyes. The fear was replaced by a curious confusion, staring at Sirius as if he was the strangest person in the world.   
  
"Who are you?" Harry whispered, his voice soft and timid.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
Umm… poor conversation. It would have been better longer, but I wasn't sure how to characterize a six and a half year old boy who lost half a pint of his blood and is a bit delirious but very perceptive. URG! It's really difficult! So this chapter is short, about a whole page shorter than the pervious chapter. I should probably have told it through Harry's point of view… damn. Maybe later, I don't think I can portray little kids well.   
  
Harry doesn't know that Sirius is Padfoot just yet. He's still a bit out of it. As to why Sirius didn't tell him… well, he was too busy trying to convince Harry to trust him. Well… yeah… uhh…   
  
Well, I'm trying really hard not to let WS stall; I just compacted the plot yesterday and reduced the story by about 2 chapters, but that'll probably mean it'll have a nice long epilogue in which I can tie up some lose strings. As for PoM, once again, I apologize!! I hope you like the little ficlet that gives a brief gimpse into the beginnings of James and Will's friendship. They are quite closely knit, and I'm not quite sure how to deal with him once Ron and Hermione are in the picture. Their friendship is based completely differently from Harry's past ones. Will is someone who saw his fair share of hardships, and with someone as naive and innocent as James, he sort of takes on the protective big brother role. Although when he first came into the picture, I never planned him to be that influential... uhh... oops... went to far ranting about PoM.   
  
I'm glad you all liked the doctor! Remmy will be... humm... well, I donnuo. He's a key figure, so he's not going to vanish for that long. Thanks for all those great reviews!! I still can't respond, ack, I am so sorry. AP's in two weeks, tests all this week. Urg!! But since I put PoM on hiatus, it'll be evil if I didn't post WS... *hides*   
  



	14. of reacquaintance

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer! *gasp* Moppet, how can you _like_ exams?!??!?! *points accusingly*   
  
*cheers* WS has hit the 500th mark, thank you Rowena Gryffindor! Let's see, would you like me to upload another chapter of CD or PoM and take them momentarily off hiatus? Or you can request a short story? It's up to you! Email me and we can discuss it!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter fifteen - of re-acquaintance   
  
  
  
Sirius hesitated. Could he tell the boy about Padfoot? Would Harry understand? But it would be such a shock to see a man turn into a beast right before his eyes especially with the kind of atmosphere he was raised in. He couldn't deal with Harry fearing Padfoot as well.   
  
Sirius felt his stomach clinch. He couldn't, Harry wasn't ready. But what would happen if Sirius told Harry his real name? With Remus there, he wondered if his old friend told him about the situation. Although his escape wasn't publicized, it was hard to say how much Harry knew. The last thing he wanted was to scare the boy when he seemed so fragile already.   
  
But he couldn't lie, especially not to Harry. He drew a steadying breath, "I can't tell you right now, but I promise I will once you get better."   
  
The child squinted as if scrutinizing him, tilting his head to one side curiously. The fear wasn't gone, lurking behind the shadows of his eyes waiting to return full force. "Why?" the child asked timidly.   
  
Sirius took a deep breath and held it, slowly lowering the child back onto the bed. He tucked the blankets firmly around the six year old, "Because you'll hate me if you don't understand," Sirius whispered.   
  
Harry tensed slightly, baffled and unnerved by Sirius' words. But the effects of the food was exacting its toll, and he was sinking into a heavy weariness. His eyes unfocused and glazed like a sheet of glass, before sleep claimed him once again.   
  
  
  
  
  
Harry drifted at the edges of consciousness, reluctant to open his eyes and relinquish sleep. His blankets were so warm, and he was so tired. There was a strange essence of peace and comfort in his cupboard, and Harry never felt that way about it before.   
  
So tired… he never felt this tired before… not since Dudley had pushed him down the stairs his fourth birthday and he struck his head against the banister.   
  
His limbs weighed like stones over his body and his arms of solid metal, he couldn't even turn more than a few inches before hot fire would gush through his veins. His body was stiff and numb, he was so sore and tired. Harry snuggled deeper in his folds. Instantly, there was a blinding pain raking across his back, and he gasped.   
  
Harry opened his eyes jerkily, blinking when his faulty eyes refused to focus. But there was no reflection of the dark, cramped compartment of the cupboard. He tried to raise his head despite the protests of his bruised neck. Harry could barely make out the slurred outline of a television and another full sized bed across from him. Streaks of milky white lined a wall and if he tried hard enough, he could just see the folds of the curtain.   
  
_ What…? _Harry blinked, disoriented.   
  
The memories of yesterday crashed over him in an instant. Much of it was a blur, but he could distinctively remember the stranger's words. It was disorienting to wake up in a foreign room with a stranger; a man had taken him out of Pivet drive, and found a doctor for him and treated him with foreign kindness that Harry didn't understand. A man who refused to tell him his name, but bore such a strong sense of familiarity that Harry stared for several minutes without blinking. His memory was a blur after that, but some things still made no sense.   
  
How did he know his name? Why did the man help him? Harry couldn't figure out why anyone would even bother. He was worthless, Aunt Petunia always said so.   
  
Something shifted beside him. Turning, Harry could barely make out a dark blur of the man, head slumped forward in an uncomfortable angle as he leaned against the side of the bed. He looked oddly like Padfoot with its streaks of long, black hair.   
  
_ Trust him, _a distant part of his mind said. _He telling the truth when he said he wouldn't hurt you. It's okay to trust him._   
  
The stranger shifted again, his breathing deepening. Slowly, Harry lifted his right arm, the only arm that he could move without scalding fire in his wrist, and placed it softly on the man's hair. He had patted Padfoot's head so many times, it was almost an instinct. He lightly stroked the thick strands, still smelling oddly of flowers that reminded him of the cat shampoo he dumped over Padfoot's fur. Harry wished that he had left with the familiar black dog; how was he managing without Harry to bring him food? Would he be alright?   
  
_ Why wasn't he sleeping in the empty bed?_ Harry wondered dimly. _It's so uncomfortable to sleep in a chair._   
  
Harry blinked, belatedly realized that the man he was petting wasn't a dog, probably would be angry at being treated like one. Harry drew his hand back apprehensively.   
  
A gleam of light against glass caught his eye. Squinting, Harry could just see the smear of black beside the stranger's hand. His glasses…   
  
Harry reached for them, but his arm was far to short. His left hand could probably touch them, but it stung like acid was in the bone. But his glasses…   
  
Carefully, Harry dragged his arm over the bed, chewing his lip to keep from crying out. Cold sweat was rising on his skin from the effort. There were nails digging into his flesh at the movement, but his glasses were so close. Just a little further, and…   
  
The large blur stirred. Harry's fingers brushed the man's arm as he reached for the round rimmed plastic, and the man's head shot up. Harry froze. Sirius stared at him for a moment with an expression he couldn't see, but then his face traveled to his outstretched arm, swabbed with bandages.   
  
"Oh god, Harry, what are you…," the man stood up sharply, reaching for his hand.   
  
Harry jerked away to cover his face defensively, a reaction grinded into him after years of residence with his relatives. But the movement aggravated the biting pain in his wrist and made the child gasp. The man sounded so angry, so frustrated. He was mad at him, he was going to punish him! That tone of voice sent waves of memories that haunted him all too often. Especially with the baggy clothes of Uncle Vernon, the man was terrifying.   
  
The stranger froze at his obvious display of fear, backing away as if burned. "Harry, it's alright. I'm not going to hurt you." He was obviously trying to be reassuring, but there was a sort of cautiousness in his tone.   
  
Oddly, Harry believed him, and when he reached forward again, managed only a small wince. Harry wasn't sure why he so willingly wanted to trust the stranger, but it was so natural. Something about him just called for it; it was like with Padfoot, only stronger. Harry knew him somehow. If he tried hard enough, he could almost see it. A face leaning over the crib, speaking words that he couldn't remember…   
  
_ He's familiar, like Padfoot…_ was thought that rose in his mind.   
  
Harry could feel his larger hands encircling his bandaged arm. Sirius supported the almost fractured wrist as he laid it against the covers, carefully peeling away the stiff bandages. He couldn't seem to be afraid of Sirius at all, not when the man was so kind. But Harry was still confused.   
  
"Be careful about moving your hand. The sprain is pretty serious, and the doctor says it's not going to take much more damage. Doesn't it hurt?" Harry could hear him saying as he lightly touched the battered skin. Sirius was speaking mostly to relieve the tension. His voice was strained, but it wasn't with rage.   
  
Harry stared at Sirius, unsure of what to say.   
  
"The swelling still hasn't receded. I'll get you a warm compress. "   
  
Harry blinked, dazed. That man didn't want to hurt him at all. He wasn't even angry. It was all so confusing, he wasn't sure how to respond. Harry turned his attention to his glasses, still lying obliviously on the bed. It looked a bit closer after Sirius had knocked it when he stood up. Perhaps if he tried reaching for it with his right arm…   
  
"Harry, no," Sirius said firmly, hurrying back towards him. "Are you trying to get your glasses? Why didn't you just ask me?"   
  
_ Ask him? But wouldn't the stranger be irritated? Or would he…   
  
_ Harry was silent, unsure of how to respond. No one ever asked such a question before. He just stared at the man in puzzlement.   
  
Sirius sighed again, running a weary hand through his long hair. "It doesn't matter. Here."   
  
Glasses were slipped on his face with care, nothing like the way Aunt Petunia would when he was younger and she wanted to drag him out of bed. Once, she jabbed the leg of it so hard against the corner of his eye that he saw red for hours. The room came sharply into focus, and he could finally see the tan color of the blankets and walls. Sirius was standing beside his bed, reading the instructions on the back of a small white package he held. He frowned slightly.   
  
"Damn muggle instructions… never could make any sense…," Sirius grumbled. "Oh, there we go."   
  
He shook the contents before pressing it lightly against Harry's wrist. The bag was comfortably warm, like the bottom of the refrigerator on a cold winter day. The heat seemed to thaw out the knots and wash away the acid in his ill-treated arm. Harry let out a small sigh of relief.   
  
Sirius smiled. "Better?"   
  
Harry nodded slightly, baffled. The stranger wasn't annoyed, he wasn't angry. Rather, he sounded a bit like the parents he passed in the park every time their child fell and scraped his knee. The man seemed… concerned? That couldn't be right. No one was ever concerned about him before.   
  
A hand on his forehead drew him from his thoughts. Harry tensed at the touch, but Sirius didn't seem to notice. Sirius brushed a few strands of hair from his face, lips thinning into a line.   
  
"You're breaking out in cold sweat. That must have really hurt," Sirius frowned, chewing his lip.   
  
Harry shifted uneasily under Sirius' intent gaze. The stranger suddenly seemed aggravated again, and Harry was afraid to speak.   
  
Harry examined the man cautiously. He was tall and skinny; the clothes that he wore were definitely not his own. Sirius did seem a lot like Padfoot, even if he was human. His hair was long and the exact same shade of black; his eyes were the pale blue that contrasted sharply with the rest of his face. Sirius' was pale though, like he hadn't seen sun for years. But even so, Harry couldn't help but find parallels between the stranger and the large dog that somehow went from a scrawny stray to his closest friend.   
  
Sirius raised an eyebrow when he noticed Harry watching him.   
  
"What is it?" he asked gently.   
  
Harry quickly averted his gaze.   
  
Could it be that he was only pretending to care? Aunt Petunia did that once after he fell down the stairs. He could do nothing but drift in and out of sleep for days, and she sat by his bed for fifteen minutes everyday. She seemed to be worried then, and Harry thought one of his wishes finally came true. At least a little bit of it: someone cared about him. But the first thing Aunt Petunia did after Harry could stand was slap him and yell that he was lazy for the past week…   
  
Harry shuddered. The man couldn't be truly concerned for him. It just wasn't possible.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
Writer's block is evil. And it's right smack in the middle of WS. *wails* from chapters 15 - 18, its a nightmare! Umm... I hope no one minds Sirius/Harry godfather godson interactions because it takes up the majority of those chapters.   
  
Damn, I should have cleared this up earlier, but it slipped my mind. Harry has no clue that Sirius is… Sirius. He doesn't know he's Padfoot either. So… humm… a bit of a complication there. Ack! I know, it's just a strange chapter. Any six year-old who wakes up in a strange place with a strange man would just start bawling or something or the sort, or just ask tons of questions, but I didn't think Harry would react that way. Harry isn't the type to say anything out loud, and Sirius doesn't want to scare the kind to death with all the magic stuff knowing the kind of influence he had at the Dursleys. Then on top of that, he's tired and sick and can't think all that clearly… *sigh* alright, I admit it, I messed up! *wails* I'm so sorry…   
  
This chapter was actually a composition of about 3 chapters that I cut and pasted. It lacks flow and continuity, sorry about that.   
  
Ack, I can't reply to the reviews this time either, but I'll answer the questions really quick before I have to study again *cries* I'm glad everyone liked Harry/Sirius interaction though! I was a little worried he might seem out of it.   
  
To answer your questions, Rowan, in CD, by saving Harry, he does give Sirius the protection, which was why Sirius didn't get killed by Voldermort as well. He is immune to the killing curse, which, I don't know if he's going to be hit by one anytime soon though. Humm... I hope the Marauder Map wasn't burned or anything, that would be really sad. It's probably going to make a comeback in book 5. As for dementors, I have no idea. They say they become like dementors themselves, maybe that's how a dementor is born? *shudder* poor Sirius...   
  
Allocin, great to see you back!! I was worried a car ate you or something! Well... lets see, Harry is perceptive that he gets visions. It wasn't something they discussed in front of an infant (scary, you used almost the exact same sentence thats in chapter, uhh.. 19 I think). Harry gets visions, a bit of a divinator I think. Harry doesn't know that Remus is a werewolf though, he just sees a wolf and thinks Remus is scary because of the dark 'vibes' he gives off. well... that doesn't make much sense, does it?   
  



	15. of the past that always returns to haunt

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter fifteen - of the past that always returns to haunt   
  
  
  
Sirius had always taken Harry's frequent visits and ecstatic conversations for granted when he resided in his Padfoot form; it never occurred to him that the child spoke just because he was a dog and not a human. But now, with Harry speaking only a word or two at a time, Sirius felt that he somehow lost the boy again. Harry's past experiences with people obviously disillusioned him and made him silent at an early age. Sirius desperately wondered if Harry would ever be so carefree again.   
  
Not to mention the wonders of wizard medicine, which Sirius hadn't truly appreciated before either. He never realized just how long it took for the body to heal naturally. To see the gaping wounds scream back at him everyday for four days straight on the young child's back was enough to remind him just how badly he was hurt, and just how slowly he would recover.   
  
_ Damn those muggles… _  
  
Sirius mixed the drink bitterly, stirring it probably harder than necessary. The powdered protein fiber had long since dissolved in the warm milk, but he was too far gone in his thoughts to notice. But when he finally turned to face the bed, Harry still hadn't touched the steaming plate of breakfast. He leaned, propped against the pillows, staring at the opposite wall unseeingly. The scrambled egg and bacon were ignored on a tray before him The injuries had drained the remaining flesh from his already slight form like water; Harry was so pale and thin that the veins could be traced over his skin and the bruises stood livid on his body. Sirius choked back anger, his grip around the cup tightening convulsively.   
  
"Harry," Sirius said softly so not to startle the boy.   
  
Harry still flinched, head snapping up in surprise. Sirius held out the mug and the boy took it in a one handed grip. But the weight seemed to strain his hand; his entire arm shook with the effort of just holding it. Sirius caught the cup just before it slipped between his fingers, the warm fluid splashing a little over the brim.   
  
Harry was wide-eyed, baffled and even fearful. He glanced his hand, flexing his fingers weakly. Sirius watched him uneasily; it must be so frustrating and confusion for a child to wake up and suddenly find that he didn't even have the strength to hold up a cup.   
  
v "Sorry…" Harry's childish voice broke into the thick silence.   
  
Sirius shook his head, trying to decide whether he should be exasperated or distressed with Harry for his extreme shyness. "It's alright; it's not your fault. Harry, you've been very ill. You'll be tired for a while."   
  
Harry frowned slightly. "But…"   
  
"But what?"   
  
He looked up at Sirius inquiringly. "What…. Why am I…?"   
  
"You are… very sick. You haven't been eating." Sirius brushed back a few strands of Harry's hair, inwardly grimacing. He knew why Harry had starved himself, and to know that he had somehow indirectly worsened his condition…   
  
"You should eat if you want to get better," Sirius said quickly as a distraction, sitting down at the edge of the bed. "Try some of the egg first."   
  
Harry visibly blanched as he examined the steaming dish in front of him. Despite Sirius encouragements, he made no move to eat at all.   
  
"But… I can't," the child said meekly.   
  
Sirius frowned, baffled. "Why not?"   
  
"Uncle Vernon…" Harry visibly shuddered at those words. "says I'm not suppose to…"   
  
Harry's next words were lost when Sirius stood from bed haltingly, looking torn between guilt and anger. He made an obvious effort at restraint, but his knuckles were white on the tightly clenched fist.   
  
"I don't care what that muggle says. You're never going to see him again, you're never going to go back there again," Sirius said firmly, but couldn't hide the bitterness.   
  
Sirius crushed those thoughts away when he noticed Harry watching him strangely again. The child's emerald eyes were unnerving sometimes, especially when he had thinned out, those eyes were large and stood out from the rest of his face.   
  
"Sorry," Harry choked out.   
  
Sirius blinked up, visibly surprised. The pained countenance was back again. "Why are you sorry?" he asked softly.   
  
"You're unhappy," Harry whispered resignedly, shifting deeper in the thin blankets. He peeked over the edge of the sheet meekly. "Is it because of me? I… I didn't mean to make you sad."   
  
Sirius drew a sharp breath, Harry's words completely catching him off guard. Harry's manner was completely of a shy little boy; he looked truly distressed at causing him trouble. Sirius was relieved at the acceptance, but concerned for his sudden reticent behavior. For a long time, Sirius was at a loss of what to say.   
  
"Do you think so?" Sirius asked finally.   
  
Harry nodded   
  
Sirius sighed, pushing stray locks of hair from Harry's face. The boy didn't shield away at the touch, but he tensed fearfully. Still, it was better than a few days ago when he flinched violently at any contact. "Harry, I…" Sirius paused, biting his lip as if catching some words he was disinclined to say. "It's nothing that you did wrong, Harry. I'm not angry with you. I won't be angry with you."   
  
Harry looked puzzled.   
  
  
  
  
  
Sirius' head snapped up, his arm knocking over a stray styrofoam cup that roamed too close to his elbow. His neck strained with a sharp crack, and he groaned at the uncomfortable position of his back. He had been sleeping in the various hotel chairs ever since a week ago, despite the spare bed in the room, and his spine was taking its toll.   
  
_ I'm getting old_, Sirius noted somewhat with disdain.   
  
The brief thoughts vanished quickly as Sirius scanned the darkened room, wondering what awakened him. Over the course of the week, he had groan especially susceptible to any noise, alert at a moment's notice.   
  
A soft whimper.   
  
That caught Sirius attention immediately.   
  
A strangled gasp.   
  
Quickly, Sirius stood, concerned. Harry was always quiet, no matter how much those injuries tortured him. He must be in serious pain if he was crying out in his sleep. Kicking aside a few articles that he couldn't see, Sirius blindly made his way towards the child's bed.   
  
A different sight met his eyes altogether when he switched on the light. Harry was twisted on his side, curled against the bed and tangled helplessly in the bed sheets. His hair was plastered to his forehead with perspiration, and he shivered visibly. His face was knitted in a deep frown, and once in a while, he would flinch and whimper as if trapped in a nightmare.   
  
Alarmed, Sirius hurried towards the child, and carefully turned him from his side to relieve his bruised ribs. But a violent spasm raked through the thin form and the child cried out. Sirius drew away cautiously.   
  
"Harry!" Sirius tapped the child gently on the forehead. Harry's skin was cold and clammy, and he dabbed at the child's face with the edge of his sleeve. "Wake up, it's just a dream."   
  
Without warning, the child's eyes snapped open, larger than he believed humanly possible, glazed and unfocused like the glassy eyes of his ancient divination teacher. Sirius could feel the boy stiffen, and Harry seemed to stare at him, right through him.   
  
The remaining color drained from his face and left him ghastly white. He made a sharp jerk in an attempt to move away, but all he managed was a sharp gasp of pain.   
  
"Harry, don't move!" Sirius said sharply.   
  
Those words sent a jolt down the child's spine, as if they incurred a terrifying memory. He clutched the far edge of the bed with the undamaged arm, trying to drag his weakened body as far from him as possible. He whimpered when Sirius took a step forward.   
  
Unnerved by the response, Sirius reached out to clasp the child's arm. But Harry recoiled so violently that he snapped back. The edge of the colt caught the child completely by surprise. With a strangled cry, Harry tumbled to the floor. His shoulder scrapped against the edge of the bedside table with a dull bang, and he fell against the carpet in a tangled heap.   
  
"Harry!"   
  
Alarmed, Sirius scrambled over the bed to get to his godson. But his frantic tone only frightened the boy even more. Harry coughed, dragging himself to against the bed and curling tightly defensively around himself. The pain from the fall and the panicked movement was obviously causing him unbearable agony. Harry was biting his fingers to muffle the cries.   
  
"Harry, no. Don't try to move, you're going to hurt yourself more," Sirius whispered almost imploringly. He knelt beside him, but every time he moved forward, Harry would flinch. Afraid to touch him and reluctant to leave him, he watched Harry agitatedly. In his drug induced delirium, Sirius wondered if it was really him that he saw.   
  
"Sorry! Sorry!" Harry choked out between gasps. He shielded his face with his hands, pressing his back against the wall despite the fire lashing out. "I won't… do it again!"   
  
"What…? Do what? Harry, it's alright, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm not angry," Sirius said as reassuringly as possible, but his tone betrayed his distress.   
  
"I didn't… steal Dudley's food," Harry continued. He spoke so softly that Sirius could barely hear, "I didn't! He said… he didn't want it… I… sorry… sorry… Sorry!"   
  
Sirius drew a sharp breath, catching onto the edge of the bed and twisting the fabric between his fingers. Harry was in trouble because of stealing his cousin's food? Sirius choked when he remembered the oversized sandwich Harry had pocketed for him. Harry had taken it for him. This was all his fault. Harry was in trouble because of him. Sirius swallowed thickly, feeling as if someone had just twisted his stomach with razor sharp nails.   
  
Harry's eyes were wide in terror, glazed with a strange gloom that a six year old should never have had or seen. He stared at him as if seeing somebody different altogether, mentally reliving all the horrors of his short life in one desperate moment.   
  
But Harry just shuddered, whether from pain or fear, he wasn't sure. He huddled in a small corner, act reminiscent of the small child fearful of being torn to pieces by a wild dog. But the position was straining his already tender ribs, tearing at the delicate skin on his back. The poorly clotted wounds had ripped at the brush against the table, noticeable stains seeped through Harry's tattered shirt. Sirius tensed at the sight, lightly pulling the slight form from the floor.   
  
Sirius reached out, a hand hovering above the child's shoulder. But the moment he touched the thin shoulder, Harry startled and struggled.   
  
"No! Please…" Harry choked out. He buried his face in his arms as if as if blocking out a sight only he could see. He writhed helplessly, face contorted in agony at the ribs that he jolted, his body was twisted in a painful position in his attempt to move away.   
  
"Harry, I'm not going to hurt you!" Sirius whispered. He pried the child's hands free with ease, the fear of further frightening the boy was quickly replaced by concern. He stopped him as he attempted to move away, easing the slight weight against him to keep the ribs from being jarred even further.   
  
But Harry all but screamed, entire body jerking as if someone had stabbed him. Sirius startled at the response, but held him still before he hurt himself further. He whispered quiet words of comfort and reassurance, but they seemed to past right through him. Abruptly, Harry fell limp, legs buckling beneath him as he collapsed.   
  
Sirius caught him before he fell completely. But when the child's head lolled back against the crook of his arm, eyes cracked in small slits as he drifted between the edges of consciousness, Sirius found his throat too constricted to sigh in relief.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
This chapter feels off somehow, like it's... I donnuo. I think I'm overdoing it... it's kinda like CD where the character development gets stretched waay too long. Humm... maybe I shouldn't have written it in pieces. Urg.   
  
Ack! For all those who want regular updates... umm... I'll try! But I only know how to make address books on the old computer, the new one for some reason doesn't save it. I need to go on the old computer to email, and occassionally, I might not be able to contact everyone. I will try though! I hope you don't mind, however sporadic they may be...   
  
Hummm... I don't know, Gaby. I hadn't intended to post the next chapter of PoM so quickly since I hit sort of a block after chapter 6. I guess I can post chapter 6, but I want to sit on that as a sort of incibator for chapter 7... well... lets say, when WS gets 600 reviews? It's pretty close and I feel rather bad about leaving the cliffie. PoM will continue when WS ends... I'm guessing... 2 months when PoM will continue? PoM's beginning to lag, rather early too. I'm getting worried whether it'll be finished or not...   
  
Hey MercS! Say hi to Tilly and Nick for me!   
  
I just flunked 2 tests!! I may not be able to post for WS until May 14, when all of these APs ( eek... good luck, Peacockgirl! I'm taking Euro and Chem this year... they don't let us take US History until we're Juniors. I hope you do well!) go away. Or if things go smoothly, I may sneak some time to post on May 8th. I'm so sorry!   
  



	16. of spotted ceilings and broken cabs

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
I managed to scrape some time off studying… ack… died on my first AP, and I'm preparing to die on the Chemistry one. The passing rate is… 40%? *wails* This chapter is longer than most, to make up for the other seven days I'm going to be gone. *runs off to a corner to die*   
  
// … \\ dream   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter sixteen - of spotted ceilings and broken cabs   
  
  
  
Sirius leaned in the deeply seated cushions of the divan, the tattered headrest a gnawing into the back of his neck. With the thin hotel blanket draped lightly over him, and the six year old sleeping quietly in its folds, Sirius numbly counted the discolored spots on the ceiling. But when they danced haphazardly over the darkened walls, he began to wonder if they were on the paint or in his eyes.   
  
Sirius blinked the graininess in his eyes away, keeping his hand still so the child wouldn't be jarred.   
  
He was beginning to get used to the dark room. The color black no longer reminded him of Azkaban. Rather, the last time he even thought about that place was over a week ago. He was so caught up with Harry then…   
  
Sirius blinked again, but his eyelids refused to open this time. He pried them open forcefully, the room swimming in his vision and his veins throbbing in his head.   
  
He rubbed his eyes, forgetting the effort to stay still. His hand came away clammy, and Sirius inwardly groaned. Becoming ill was the last thing he needed, with a physically and mentally scarred child on his hands. He knew he should rest, but he couldn't. What if Harry had another nightmare? He had to be there to reassure him, tell him everything was alright, that he'd be okay, everything would be okay…   
  
Distractedly, Sirius rocked the bundle in his arms back and forth, lightly smoothing out the child's unruly hair.   
  
He never felt more defeated in his life. It was reliving James and Lily's death all over again, only it was their son dying. A trapped, lost six year old boy slowly fading away into a shell. He was so deeply scarred, so scalded and burned from those experiences that Sirius wondered if he could ever lead a normal life.   
  
_ And Harry didn't trust him…   
  
_ He should take Harry to Remus, to Hogwarts; leave him in peace where he can be tended to without fear. Harry trusted Remus, didn't he? He remembered the child talking about him to Padfoot. Sirius could make sure that Harry had a good home; he could make sure the child was happy. He could explain to Remus, and even if he was sent back to Azkaban, he would have found some semblance of peace. It felt so much like giving up, abandoning his godson.   
  
Sirius rearranged the blankets, and tucked the child snuggly in its folds. Harry had sunk past unconsciousness into sleep, eyes peacefully closed. But Sirius couldn't bring himself to move.   
  
Harry's face twisted into a faint grimace, burrowing himself deeper in the folds of Sirius' shirt.   
  
  
  
  
  
//   
  
_ The autumn wind blew the browning leaves in gentle sweeps. Harry stared up at the clouded sky, blind to the people that passed by. They couldn't see him, anyway. A lady in an overcoat ran right through him, her body passing through his like a rippling wave. Her overcoat fused into his arm, and drew out the otherside as if he was only a shape of solid, clear water, leaving behind only the lingering sensation of perfume. Harry just stood still, watching the leaves sway overhead.   
  
Another dream.   
  
He didn't mind dreams. The people didn't acknowledge him, and he preferred it that way. If he could, he would have chosen to spend his life in dreams.   
  
Invisible hands, guiding him. Harry followed them, as he always followed his instincts, picking his way through the brick street of a crowded London afternoon. A gleam caught the corner of his eye, and Harry turned.   
  
A short man with thin flaxen hair and a potbelly stood in the middle of the sidewalk, beady black eyes watery with terror. His right hand clutched a piece of stick, entire body shaking. Harry stilled at the sight of him, inwardly shuddering. There was something about him that brought chills to his stomach.   
  
Another man rapidly approaching made Harry's eyes widen. The pale, blue eyes and dark hair, although shorter and neatly trimmed, the lanky frame…   
  
_ The stranger…   
  
_ The stranger looked murderous, eyes burning was an enraged fire that he never even saw in Uncle Vernon. His face was ashen, but filled with such abhorrence that it made the plump, rat-faced man squeak with fear. In two strides, Sirius had caught him by the collar, shaking him savagely.   
  
"You bastard!" he hissed, every word laced with contempt. "You traitor…"   
  
Harry flinched at the fury radiating from the stranger.   
  
"Si… Sirius!! I… I don't know what you're talking about!" the man whimpered, hands fumbling to loosen the man's grip.   
  
_ Sirius? Sirius Black? That man that Remus said was evil…   
  
_ Harry paled like a sheet.   
  
Sirius' fingers tightened, his other hand raising a wand in front of his face threateningly. "Shut up! Don't play the fool with me. You know exactly what I'm talking about!"   
  
Peter squeaked, writhing futilely to free himself. The people were oblivious, hurrying through the streets in hope of making home before afternoon traffic.   
  
"I trusted you, Peter," Sirius growled out, his blue eyes darkening to a dull gray. "I told James to trust you."   
  
"I don't know what you're talking about!!" Peter cried, his face tearing up pitifully.   
  
"You betrayed them to Voldermort!" Sirius hissed.   
  
Peter visibly cringed at the name. "I… I…"   
  
Sirius cut him off sharply with a clench of his hand, the glint in his eye almost insane with fury. "I should never have trusted you, I should never have told James to trust you. You deserve to die for what you did!"   
  
That seemed to shake Peter out of his daze of fear. His hand went to his back pocket, but Sirius was too distracted to see. With a sudden upward jerk of an arm, Sirius made a start of surprise and dropped his collar, stunned. A thin line of blood seeped through his sleeve, a gaping wound deep in his shoulder. Peter took a few unsteady steps back, clutching a bloodied knife in his hands.   
  
Sirius snapped out of his surprise, face contorting in almost unrecognizable fury. "You…"   
  
Peter gave a loud sob, "James and Lily," he shrieked accusingly to the crowded afternoon street. "Sirius, how could you?!"   
  
And the dream exploded into shards of light. The faces of shocked pedestrians shattered like broken glass, falling around the child in uneven pieces, leaving black patches in its trail. Harry awoke with a jolt.   
  
_ \\   
  
  
  
  
  
Remus paced restlessly along the sidewalk tracing the outer edge of the secluded park. With Harry gone, there was really no more reason he should stay in Little Whinging. But Dumbledore had insisted he should for reasons even he did not understand. Remus found himself scrounging through the streets questioning every nightworker, bus, and taxi driver he could find, hoping, somehow, that he'd be able to find some sign of where the six year old was.   
  
But the chances of finding Harry alive were so slim. Sirius, Remus clinched his fists ate the name he used to react with fondness, probably killed the child the moment he left the Dursleys. And even if he didn't, who knows what he could have done to him.   
  
But another part desperately said otherwise. Sirius had been there for a week and never touched a hair on that boy's head. It didn't make much sense for a convict to escape from prison, already stained with the blood of others to hesitate with a child. By the way Dudley described it, Sirius seemed actually fond of Harry, but what if he was only pretending?   
  
But that's not like the hot-tempered and impatient man. All of this was so confusing. Sirius saved him from the Dursleys when they abused him. He took Harry's clothes and a first aide kit. Perhaps Sirius' motives weren't that sinister, but that was a foolish hope. Who knew what the man who had fooled everyone around him would be thinking? He could have been misleading everyone on purpose.   
  
A thought haunted the back of his mind ever since Arabella voiced it. He knew everyone steered away from it, but it was still there, just lurking in the shadows.   
  
_ What if Sirius was teaching Harry Voldermort's ways? What if he was corrupting the child to the dark?   
  
_ Remus shuddered. He tried hard to dismiss it as an impossibility, but there was no other explanation for Sirius' actions. He heard too many horrifying possibilities from the staff, and he found their ideas quenching his hopes.   
  
If those muggle relatives hadn't been so foolish… _  
  
The Dursleys…   
_  
Remus gritted his teeth. The family was so horrified of persecution they packed their bags and bought a vacation to London for a month. But that was after Remus had pressured them into telling all the details in Harry's upbringing. Remus slowed his steps, sitting heavily on a park bench. He buried his face in his hands feeling as if someone spread silver in his veins. Harry was so young, so innocent, how could they…?   
  
He should have pressed charges… made sure they paid for their crimes.   
  
_ Damn those muggles…   
  
Damn you Sirius, where the hell are you? If you hurt Harry, I'll…   
  
_ Remus stood up jerkily. He couldn't sit anymore, he had to do something. All the searches Dumbledore sent had resulted in nothing, but the headmaster was severely hindered by the Minister's denial and unwillingness to act. He had to help, find Harry. Somehow, just somehow, but he knew he couldn't sit and wait.   
  
Remus approached a cab parked casually at the curb, the driver leaning against the open door drinking from a mug. He glanced up when he noticed the other man.   
  
"I'm sorry sir, the, car broke down. Still waiting for the towing truck," the man said, voice muffled by his mug. "Sorry about that, sir."   
  
Remus nodded distractedly, not really listening. He had been detached ever since Harry vanished four days ago, staring off into the distance and wondering if his best friend's son was really dead or alive. He should have told him, however young Harry was. He should have told him the truth about Sirius, at least he would have been prepared. But now, just how badly had he failed James this time?   
  
Remus inwardly sighed, cursing his never relenting fortune or misfortune to survive despite anything and everything that occurred. The wolf bite, James and Lily's death, Sirius' betrayal, Peter's death, and now possibly Harry's. Why was he always the one left? Did something hold a grudge against him?   
  
A small breeze teased his acute senses. Remus stiffed, all thoughts fading the moment he passed an opened door. The air in the car was stale, scents lingering for days in the small compartment. A mix of smoke, a whiff of perfume, the smell of somebody's cat or dog. But one stood out above the rest: the bittersweet tang of blood. Remus choked.   
  
"Something wrong, sir?" the man asked professionally but not really caring about his reply.   
  
"Did you see a man and a boy four days ago?" Remus asked hurriedly.   
  
The man glanced at him in surprise. "I've seen many men and boys since four days ago…"   
  
"A man with black hair, tall… probably wearing some strange clothes. His hair is a bit long, and he has really pale blue eyes, in his mid-twenties. The boy has really messy hair and glasses, very bright green eyes. He has a small scar on his forehead, always wearing old and oversized clothes. He's six, but looks younger. He's… probably a bit injured," Remus continued, his gaze never wavering from the driver's face.   
  
There was a long silence when Remus held his breath. He was sure he was going to choke if the driver didn't speak again.   
  
The man wrinkled his brow. "Oh, you knew them?"   
  
Remus stood up straighter. "You saw them?" he asked desperately.   
  
The driver nodded slowly. "Yeah, at night. The man came in with the boy; he was quite flustered and upset… didn't even know where he wanted to go. He had on these really large clothes that didn't seem to belong to him… came in carrying this thing that looked like a large bundle of jackets of some sort… took me a while to realize it was a boy… didn't even notice he was alive at first…"   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
The dream skewed the timeline in the book on purpose, it seems strange doesn't it? Sirius was too calm. *sigh*   
  
Inverted law of Murphy? Yhprum law? It certainly seems to be the case here. I mean, out of the hundreds of thousands of cabs, Remus just happens to run into the one Sirius was in four days ago. *sigh* But what the hell...   
  
Harry's getting creepy again.   
  
Humm… about PoM. I might accelerate jump start the plot so James wouldn't be in confusion for the next four chapters. It might cut down on the believability, but what the hell… sorry about that.   
  
Sorry about the more 'sorrys' for little Harry, but I really don't want to delete something I already wrote. WS was written in pieces on and off, and when I spliced them together, I suddenly realized much of it was repetitive. The time frame was way too tight. Plus, I tried to write it from different points of view to make the story more dynamic and believable, trying to decide which one worked better. In the end, I used them all… think it just made a lot of people feel bored. But I spent so much time on it, I really didn't want to just throw it out. Sorry for those who just want to wring my neck with impatience.   
  
Sirius seems a bit calm, but I think I already overdid the skin Dursley kill Dursley eat Dursley wear Dursley thing. *groan* that just sounds weird… plus, the poor guy's bordering on a physical and emotional breakdown taking care of little Harry. Poor guy. Harry's a difficult kid.   
  
Remus doesn't think Sirius is innocent. In fact, he thinks Sirius' using Harry as a tool and corrupting him, etc. etc. etc. *cackle* This is going to be fun…   
  



	17. of lessons of faith

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
I know I said I wouldn't post until Tuesday, but for some reason, studying didn't settle with me and I sort of… strayed. So here we go, chapter 17 of WS. If I flunk AP Chem, I'm blaming this story *cries* Well, it's my own fault, but… still! Um... I'm apologizing for an extremely long a/n before hand. *hides sheepishly*   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter seventeen - of lessons of faith   
  
  
  
Remus' hand was trembling when he threw the pinch of green powder into the fireplace. Still winded from his run back to Arabella's house, his voice came out raspy when he called into the flame.   
  
Dumbledore seemed to have sensed his distress; he appeared almost instantly, the lines on his face deeper and the rings around his eyes darker. His blue eyes were weary and tired when they rested on his former pupil.   
  
It was hard for the headmaster, with the minister more in denial than ever, to trace the boy and run a school at the same time. At the news of Harry's disappearance, Fudge became even more desperate.   
  
Terrified that the hush-up of Sirius Black's escape would whiplash him and brand him with the fault of failing to protect The Boy Who Lived, he covered up the entire news with inches of thick cement. When that threatened to crack, he sought to place the entire blame of the Dursleys, fabricating a story that they had been guilty of murder and turning the fault to Dumbledore for ever leaving Harry there (as much as Remus thought the Dursleys deserved that guilt, having Dumbledore incriminated outweighed that good by tons). Only the fear that Dumbledore would expose Black's escape made him stay his hand.   
  
Remus drew a deep breath, the words were ready to burst free in a flood of suppressed frustration and bitterness of the past days. "I know where they are… Sirius took a taxi four days ago… he had Harry with him…"   
  
Dumbledore tensed, eyes brightening with a restrained relief. "Where are they?"   
  
"Thirty miles northwest of here, in a small suburb. He drew me a map, but said he couldn't remember the exact location," Remus said, still paler than usual. "There's about an area of five miles they could be in. I'm guessing it could take me about three to five days to track them down, unless Sirius moved already…" he trailed off, pushing back his hair wearily.   
  
"How is Harry?" Dumbledore urgently asked.   
  
Remus drew a shuddering breath, the chair all but forgotten as he sat on the floor. "I don't know… I don't know. That man was pretty vague."   
  
Dumbledore's frowned thoughtfully, eyes glazing out of focus. "What about Sirius?"   
  
Remus shook his head again. "Sirius was trying to help him."   
  
Instead of appearing surprised or even confused, Dumbledore became more thoughtful than ever. A brooding distant look passed over his demeanor like a mask. Remus couldn't help but wonder if Dumbledore had foretold this somehow, or even expected it. But whatever speculations the headmaster had, he kept them to himself.   
  
"Did he?" Dumbledore asked softly.   
  
"The man said he wasn't paying attention, but Sirius had a first aide kit and was trying to bandage his wrist or something. He said Sirius looked really upset, really worried," Remus trailed off, staring at the floor numbly. "The man thought Sirius was Harry's father."   
  
A suffocating quiet filled the room as both men sat, lost in their own thoughts, not even aware of each other's presence.   
  
"He's too young…" Remus whispered.   
  
Dumbledore dropped his head, his blue eyes almost grey with the darkness swimming through them. "He is. He's too young to sustain that sort of damage regularly. Harry's condition could be much more serious than we all assumed. Only two months ago, he came dangerously close to catching pneumonia after lying ill with the flu for over two weeks. For a six year old, undernourished boy, it takes a while to fully recover. If he caught another illness in this short period of time, the repercussions could be rather serious."   
  
Remus swallowed, his throat almost choking him. "Then… Harry's life is completely in Sirius' hands, isn't it?" he whispered, dread sinking like ice in his stomach.   
  
Dumbledore sighed, turning away. "Yes, it is."   
  
"Then, he may use Harry against us, or he might have… disposed of him altogether," Remus whispered hoarsely.   
  
Dumbledore said nothing, but another shadow passed over his face. "We shouldn't just to conclusions just yet," he said.   
  
Remus was too preoccupied to notice the thoughtful look of the headmaster. Apart of him was still whispering bitter betrayal, but inwardly praying that Sirius had a soft spot for James' son. He'd be relieved and thankful enough to even embrace the traitor if he found Harry carefully taken care of. The other was still logical, wondering why Lily and James' murderer would stop short of their son. It just didn't add up.   
  
"It doesn't make any sense," Remus said suddenly. "The only explanation to this is that Sirius wants to use Harry as a tool for Voldermort…"   
  
"No, we can't conclude that, Remus. There's more to this than what meets the eye," Dumbledore muttered. "Act with discretion. I know you have many emotional ties to this, but please don't do anything if you find them; bring them to Hogwarts immediately."   
  
  
  
  
  
Harry was stiff, the fiery rage of the dream still lingering in the back of his mind. He squeezed his eyes together tightly, trying to block out the light.   
  
That man, the stranger who helped him was Sirius Black. He was being aided by a murderer the entire time! Harry shivered at just the thought.   
  
But… that couldn't be right.   
  
Sirius seemed to care about him. He was going out of his way to help him, to make sure that he would recover and to make sure that he was well. He even called a doctor for him, bandaged the cuts, even sat by his bed through the night when he felt ill. He was pale with worry when Harry retched every single one of his meals during the first few days, and thinned out even faster than the child did. Sometimes, Harry wondered if Sirius wished those injuries were inflicted on him just to spare Harry the pain.   
  
How could he be evil if he was so kind?   
  
_ // 'I trusted you, Peter. I told James to trust you.' \\   
  
_ Harry stilled.   
  
_ // 'You betrayed them to Voldermort!' \\   
  
_ That name felt like ice in his stomach, making his skin prickle and crawl. Was it…?   
  
Harry forced those voices away, nestling deeper in the warm blankets. His body was numb and heavy, but his side only stung mildly at the movement. That was when he noticed his inclined position, as if someone was holding him upright. He was leaning against something stiff and bony, but reassuring in its presence.   
  
A hand lightly brushed his hair, a foreign gesture that made Harry startle and slowly open his eyes. The person beside him immediately stilled, waiting from him to adjust. Harry took in the wrinkled shirt against his cheek, the blankets tangling him in a small cocoon, and the slightly blurred, but visibly nervous face of the stranger staring down at him.   
  
The contrast between him and the man in that dream was disorienting. For a long moment, Harry just stared, unsure of what to think. Tentatively, almost fearfully, the man laid his hand the child's hair again, and when Harry didn't flinch or whimper, brushed some stray locks from his forehead. Sirius' movement pulled the collar of his oversized shirt from his shoulder, and for a brief second, Harry caught sight of a thin, discolored line etched between his neck and collarbone.   
  
Harry stiffened, and Sirius instantly pulled away.   
  
"That's…" Harry didn't even realized he had moved his hand until he was almost tracing the frayed flesh. "That man with the knife gave it to you. He…"   
  
But the moment Harry brushed his fingers over the scar, high pitched shrieks echoed through his mind. Harry jerked as if stabbed, snapping his hand back.   
  
Sirius was so silent that he could hear his shallow breathing rattling through his chest. "What…?" he finally choked out.   
  
"That man was evil," Harry whispered, shuddering.   
  
Sirius froze. He was so aggravated that Harry wished he could take those words back. "Who was evil?" he asked softly.   
  
Harry paused, trying to recall the name. Was it Peter or Wormtail? He couldn't remember. He turned his attention from the sniveling, beady eyed man, and looked up curiously. "You're Sirius."   
  
The color drained from Sirius' face at those words, the conflict almost audible in his mind. He seemed to be desperate to admit and deny it at the same time. His shoulders slumped in defeat. The arm across Harry's shoulders tightened painfully, almost as if he was afraid the child would flee in terror.   
  
"I don't know what Remus told you, but I swear, I did not kill anyone," he choked out desperately. He rubbed his eyes harshly, hand shaking with weariness. "You have to believe me, Harry. I didn't kill anyone. I was…" He broke off abruptly, indecisive again.   
  
Harry blinked, perplexed by his unease. No one ever reacted towards him like that; the man seemed so worried about frightening him. His hand was trembling violently on Harry's shoulder, so tense that it was painful. He tilted his head, looking up to examine Sirius' expression with bafflement. But Sirius only became more upset, dropping his head back against the sofa.   
  
"I didn't," Sirius repeated, voice strained as if recalling a distant memory. He seemed dangerously close to breaking down completely. "I didn't. I didn't."   
  
"You were at the street. There was a man with black eyes… you were angry… you wanted to kill him," Harry whispered softly, squinting as he recalled the details of the dream. " He gave you that scar."   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
Short chapter, sorry. Remus hasn't confronted Sirius yet, and so many issues have yet been unresolved before that can occur. The plot moves with the consistency of molasses. *sigh* It grew longer by two chapters, so WS is a total of 32 chapters now. That's about the same length as CD, then why does WS seem so much shorter? The chapters are about the same length too…   
  
Sorry about my poor characterization of Dumbledore in earlier chapters! I hope this one was better.   
  
PoM hit an all time low. I hit a bottleneck and can't crawl out. I probably should go back to CD…   
  
Sakrchan! About the blurb from James' past of his friendship with Will, umm… I took that down since it was apart of the hiatus note. But it has 2 more scenes added to it now, just as something I did trying to throw off writer's block. Would you like me to post it again?   
  
Nicky - well, Remus will head to them right away, but it's going to be like finding a football in a haystack instead of a needle. I think Remus is on the verge of breaking down too, although that wasn't really intended. Oopsie. Two adults on the verge of breaking down, a six year old kid beaten past endurance... *sigh* it's not going to be pretty   
  
puddlew - Sorry! The plot sort of fell in here, didn't it?   
  
vmr - thank you!! Little Harry's getting sort of creepier, isn't he? Is it just me, or does he act a bit like that boy from the 6th Sense?   
  
Tarawen - Ack!! Stay away from APs, far far away! They're murderous, I tell you! Harry isn't quite communicative enough to narrate the details of the street to Sirius word by word, but he's dropping little clues which are torturing Sirius half to death. Its sort of unfortunate that Harry had to see the street memory though... Yeah, I agree. Sirius is sort of the person with his own set of values and he follows them with extreme stubborness. And some of those values leads him to do some very illogical things. Umm... Remus doesn't come just yet. Ack... WS's plot is reaaaaaaaaaaally slow.   
  
Sasseesam - I will! I hope you liked this one!   
  
Lady Foxfire - waah! I'm trying!! Although... chapter 20 has a sort pf knott in it.   
  
RJLL - Harry's still confused like hell, James and Lily in his mind didn't automatically relate to his parents. Yes, Remmyboy is going to get quite a shock. Plus, considering his and Sirius' mental state, its going to get a little... strange. *sigh*   
  
MidnightDragon - uhoh... Remus is still a bit angry. Waah, he's going to have such a guilt trip afterwards.   
  
Kim - well, he will soon! It's going to be fun *cackles*   
  
Carey - That's coming up, soon! Well... semi-soon. First, I need to settle some topics. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.   
  
venus4280 - humm... PoM is so difficult! I'm trying to keep it believable yet not too sluggish at the same time, and it's really getting... urg. I mean, James isn't the type who would instantly accept a whole new identity at the drop of a pin. And Sirius isn't the type who would accept the idea that Harry remembers absolutely nothing at the drop of a pin. And then, with Remus as the only one who manages to keep himself calm, it's going to be a nightmare. Not to mention Ron and Hermione, which... acccck...   
  
Firedrake - thanks!! Memorizing those equations are murderous. *cries*   
  
Kaylin - thanks!!   
  
AllAboutMe - muses? humm... it's tempting, it really is! Who should I kidnap?   
  
Luna Rose - of course Remus will go after them! But the rest is a secret *grins*   
  
stormyfire - huh? As in what'll happen for Harry's third year if he meets them now? Well... I really have no clue. I suppose he could endure a kidnap by someone evil? I haven't thought about that yet... humm...   
  
Bumblebee Bucy - *grins* Sirius is determined to take care of Harry... and Remus is determined to 'save' Harry from the clutches of evil. It's all a big huge miscommunication. Sad, really...   
  
Child of Two Worlds - The confrontation is... I'm going to be flamed for it *sigh* it's just... mean. But you didn't hear that! It's some chapters off and being slowly polished so it wouldn't be that mean. But ack, Harry's reaction isn't as bad as what Sirius thinks he's thinking.   
  
Tabby - ick! English language? I heard that's like the writing section for the PSATs. (which I flunked *groan). Sirius is sort getting to the point of physical and mental breakdown from all the stress that's going on. It's going to be fun *grins evilly*   
  
Allocin - yeah, but sometimes, a comment or two helps chip away some writers block that occur later. *grins* You like creepy Harry? He gets sort of creepier later on, but not too creepy. He's still a little kid. I wonder if he's going to get creepier when he grows up. Creepy Harry, first year, Quirrel won't stand a chance. He'll know right away.   
  
RavenLady - ack, I'm having trouble signing in too! I have it on save identity, but it lies and doesn't save... grrr... I'm glad you liked that chapter!!   
  
Phoenix - I will!   
  
Teigra - well... not really. He's still rather blurred out on the James and Lily part, and he has no idea what happened after Peter screamed out to the street, but making him watch 13 people get burned and ripped apart is just too evil on a 6 year old kid. Poor Harry...   
  
Jedi Cosmos - I read up on an art history review a week ago, and it turns out the picture has some very disturbing background. Dali's sort of insane, and he made that lump on the floor a uterus, because he has some strange love for his mother, and the dead tree represents the wrath of his father, and all in all, it's a strange picture. *shudder* Dali has issues... *grins* after the Dursleys, Remus became sort of pessimistic   
  
Kit Cloudkicker - really? humm... maybe it's because Harry is so creepy. It gets weirder later on!!   
  
Sandrine Black - *grins* That'll be coming soon! Remus's meeting with Sirius will be... interesting. *cackles evilly*   
  
gjegje - wow, thanks!! I'm so flattered! Ack... passing tests... that's... *hides*   
  
Kaydee - but bashing oneself is a necessity! Well, for me, it is. Wait... that makes me sound strange... The next part isn't that interesting, is it? *hides* It's sort of... slow again. WS moves in peaks and runs.   
  
CatC10 - well, cliffie's are fun! Aren't they? *grins*   
  
MercS, Tilly, & Nick - yeah, Sirius is having a really hard time, and Harry's going to be freaked out when Sirius does crack. Well, almost crack. He's trying hard to pull himself together. Uh oh... the story doesn't have any Dursley bashing past the part that Remus punched him in. Uhh... it can be a short story sort of thing... No, no, no, don't hurt poor Remmy! He's just sort of disillusioned after the Dursleys, and isn't so optimistic anymore. Harry's rather confused by the dream, as he's confused by a lot of things in general, but he's opening up to Sirius after how much Sirius is trying to help him. *grins* thanks MercS! *wonders what it'll be like to be sugar high in the middle of the APs... cackles evilly*   
  
Nacasara - boycotting me? No!! That's not fair! You'd love PoM if you liked CD, so go read that! Well, if you're boycotting me, you'd probably won't read this message, but... *sigh* Oh, you have a story? I'll be sure to check it out!!   
  
summersun - well, not really. WS' plot is sloooooooow... sorry about that.   
  
gwendolyn-flight - Importance of Being Earnest, right? The name, Gwendolyn! *grins* love that play. Harry sort of understands and sort of doesn't, but the next chapter should sum it up!   
  
kelly - ack, I donnuo. Sometimes I write something, and it seems off, then I mull over it for days. It's happening to PoM right now. I'm glad you find all the chapters great!!   
  
skvph - thank you!! I hope you enjoy this chapter too!   
  



	18. of confessions and explanations

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter eighteen - of confessions and explanations   
  
  
  
Those words sent a jolt down Sirius spine, as if someone had dripped fire on his skin. He nearly knocked Harry to the floor as he jumped to his feet, completely blind to everything but the body sewn street still livid in his memory.   
  
_ A pile of steaming ash lying above a sewer, the scalded face of a young girl, and the flames, licking at the blackened concrete…   
  
_ Sirius staggered back, stumbling when the room swam in his vision. He sank heavy to his knees beside the child, the strain of the past week collapsing over him in an overwhelming wave. He barely registered the weakness in his limbs, the sandiness in his eyes, Harry's words echoing in his mind.   
  
_ Harry knew his name… knew what happened… thought he was the traitor… hated him…   
  
_ Sirius didn't even stop to question how he knew. All he could think of was how much he lost. He lost, he lost completely. How could he even explain it to a six year old child? How could he explain that Harry's own parents were betrayed by one of their best friends because he placed them in that position? He didn't know where to begin; he didn't even want to start. Would Harry believe him even if he did?   
  
_ This was too much. He couldn't take much more of this.   
  
_ Something in him snapped then. It was as if a dam had splintered and cracked inside of him, and the five years of anger, frustration, and bitterness poured out in a torrent. His shoulders were shaking uncontrollably; the hope of Harry ever trusting him was slipping through his fingers. Sirius buried his face in his hands, struck with something between choked gasping and dry tears.   
  
He didn't know how long he sat there, beside the child he was afraid to approach but reluctant to leave. He was not even aware of the stiff frame on the bed gnawing into his back.   
  
There was a light, tentative brush against his arm. Sirius lifted his head slowly, and when Harry's clear emerald eyes stared back at him, fell still, unsure of what to say. The child looked apprehensive, uncertain, but there was a strange sort of concern in his demeanor.   
  
"Don't be sad," Harry whispered almost fearfully, eyes wide at the react his words incited. "I didn't mean to make you sad."   
  
He must have stared in shock at Harry for a long time, but he couldn't remember. But in a moment, Sirius had the child enveloped in a suffocating embrace. The child was a stiff board in his arms, but he wasn't flinching or pulling away. Sirius didn't even stop to think how horrified Harry would be in the presence of an alleged murderer. He just hugged the child tightly, feeling as if he could never let go.   
  
"It wasn't me, Harry," Sirius said almost desperately, voice muffled against the child's unruly hair. "I didn't kill those muggles. I… I can't tell you the details, but it wasn't me. I wasn't the secret keeper. I wasn't."   
  
"I know…"   
  
Those words caught him completely by surprise. He tried to discern Harry's expression, but it seemed so muddled that he could make it out.   
  
"You… you do?" Sirius asked, surprised and relieved at the same time.   
  
Harry nodded slightly. "I trust you. I don't know why, but I do. You remind me of… of… I don't know…" he chewed his lip; his thoughts and emotions obviously perplexing even himself.   
  
Sirius slumped forward again, resting his chin on the child's head, more relieved and overjoyed than he could remember. The lack of sleep must be catching up with him; he was far more compulsive than usual; the flickering emotions were disjointed and made no sense even to him. But he still couldn't help but feel a huge weight lifted from his back, and an absurd urge to laugh in respite.   
  
"Why?" Harry suddenly asked, sounding genuinely confused.   
  
Sirius pulled away, smiling slightly as he brushed strands of hair from his eyes. "What do you mean?"   
  
Harry chewed his lip again, twisting a piece of the blanket between his fingers. "Why… why are you helping me? Why do you care?"   
  
Sirius' expression faltered. Harry never had a person he could remember who cared or displayed any sort of affection towards him. He must be so bewildered; Sirius swallowed thickly. He averted his gaze, unable to meet Harry's inquisitive eyes, and took the child's thickly bandaged hand carefully in his own. How could he explain?   
  
"I knew you when you were just a little infant, you know?" he said slowly, giving the child's hand a light squeeze. "I always visited on Wednesdays and Fridays; my job wouldn't let me off any other times. I remember barging into your house at Godric's Hollow, watching you crawl around the house with your father balancing milk bottles and your mom trying to cook. I think I just made your parent's life more hectic when I came."   
  
Harry's emerald eyes were wide almost beyond recognition. But Sirius was too lost in his memories to notice.   
  
"You were really a bright, really sweet little boy. You could speak where you were only nine months old, and after that, you wouldn't stop talking," Sirius grinned wistfully at the memory. "Your first word was daddy, only you said it to the wrong person. Your dad blew a lid at that one… nearly gave me two black eyes. But you kept calling me that anyway; if I didn't know better, I'd say you were purposefully trying to get me in trouble."   
  
Sirius sighed, leaning back in the chair. Things seemed to perfect then, even with Voldermort stalking their every move.   
  
_He changed so much,_ Sirius couldn't help but note, as he watched Harry lean stiffly against against his arm. The child seemed to be slowly digesting his words, eyes clouded with a storm of bewilderment, confusion, fear.   
  
"We've met before?" Harry asked hopefully, nervous at the same time.   
  
"Your dad was my best friend," Sirius murmured slowly.   
  
Harry's eyes brightened, "You knew them."   
  
Sirius nodded. "They were… some of the nicest people, the most loyal friends you could possibly wish for… " Sirius trailed off. He desperately wanted to tell Harry about James and Lily, but when he finally had the chance, he found himself unable to continue. Those memories brought too much pain and guilt and Sirius wasn't sure if he could even put those thoughts into words. He glanced at Harry apologetically. "They made me your godfather, but I did a horrible job."   
  
But Harry didn't seem to hear his voice after that word. "Godfather?" Harry repeated, eyes widening again.   
  
Sirius nodded guiltily. "I'm sorry, Harry."   
  
_ For not being there when you needed me. For leaving you with people who never loved you. For taking away your only chance at happiness.   
  
_ But those words caught in his throat, and all Sirius could do was sit mutely. Harry stared, eyes wide with a mixture of unreadable emotions. But slowly, a small, timid smile broke across the child's face.   
  
  
  
  
  
Remus inspected the slightly dilapidated two story building with the neon sign hung at an angle.   
  
_ Doublecross Inn,_ it flashed.   
  
The windows were clouded slightly with thick muck from smog of the nearby city, and nearly all the rooms looked deserted. This was the closest hotel within the region that the driver could possibly drop them off, although it took him a over sixteen hours just to trace it. There weren't many places that could house travelers; the buildings nearby were so scattered that he couldn't decide whether to risk apparating to cut down time or agonizingly walking.   
  
Could it be possible that they were here? If Sirius had wanted to just disappear underground with the child, this would be the perfect place to start. What if they already vanished? Remus paled at the thought.   
  
He pushed open the squeaking door slowly, stepping into a thickly carpeted hall with a sparkling bright chandelier. The differences between the interior and exterior was alarming. Marble columns and carefully scrubbed glass lined the colossal room. The rusted hinges alerted a sleepy receptionist. She glanced at him irritably.   
  
"What is it?" she snapped.   
  
Remus cleared his throat, wondering why they didn't hire a lady as kind as the interior of the shoddy hotel. "Excuse me, I'm looking for a…" he hesitated, ranking his brain for a suitable lie. "friend of mine. He's in this area. Have you seen a man and a boy around here?"   
  
The lady's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Remus instantly realized that was the wrong thing to say. As to why, he had no clue.   
  
"No! No man and child in here!" she screeched, jumping up angrily. "Haven't seen one!"   
  
Her reaction was so acute that it made Remus pause. She knew something, that much was obvious. It was suspicious; could she know about them and was trying to protect Sirius' location? Or perhaps that traitor tried to use some of his charm and implanted lies in their heads?   
  
"Then, in that case, is it possible that I get a room for the night? I've traveled all day," Remus said with his characteristic smile.   
  
The lady scowled deeply. "There's no man and boy here, so why stay? Go somewhere else!"   
  
"Martha!" another voice ran shrilly through the room.   
  
Another older woman in an oily apron stood at the entrance, hands full with groceries. The cook, Remus decided, but at the authority she commanded the receptionist, she was probably much more than that. Hair trapped tightly in a bun and eyes pursed in a stern frown, she reminded Remus oddly of his transfiguration professor.   
  
The cook glared at Martha pointedly, setting the two bags on a stray chair by the door. "Martha, that is no way to treat a customer! You are a hostess."   
  
Martha glowered even more bitterly, but thankfully said nothing. She turned away, purposefully ignoring the two. Remus tried to be as unobtrusive as possible and held his tongue.   
  
The older woman turned to him, face transformed into a welcoming smile. "I'm sorry, sir. You were saying something about a room?"   
  
"Yes, just one bed. I'm not quite sure how long I'll stay just yet," Remus said.   
  
The woman nodded, "Yes, of course. Follow me. I'm sorry about Martha. My little sister really isn't suited to this sort of work." she sighed resignedly once out of earshot.   
  
_ Definitely not like McGonagall. Way too open and outgoing.   
  
_ But it was still fortunate to find someone talkative, Remus realized with some amount of relief. This lady seemed much more communicative than the receptionist. If he treaded carefully, he could just discover something useful.   
  
"Do you maintain this hotel by yourselves then?" Remus asked, fringing interest and feeling a bit guilty at the same time.   
  
"Yes. Our parents left us this place, and we don't have much money to restore the building. The second story is completely abandoned," the lady shook her head, smiling softly. "We tried to sell this place many times but we could never carry it through."   
  
"It's a nice place," Remus said kindly, "The interior outbalances it all."   
  
"Well, the interior is easier to maintain than the exterior."   
  
"I take it that there aren't many customers then?" Remus asked in mock surprise, inwardly praying. It was taking all his patience not to throw the question right at her.   
  
_ Please… let Sirius be here… please, please, please… let Harry be alright…   
  
_ "No, not particularly," the lady muttered. "But once in a while, we have a stray customer."   
  
"I see," Remus said sympathetically. He scanned his mind for another seemingly innocent phrase that could probe some information. He used to be a master at this, along with James. But it had been so long ago. But Sirius was best when it came to charming the ladies…   
  
Remus sighed softly.   
  
The lady misinterpreted it by a mile. She glanced at him with a grin tugging at her lips. "You must understand that feeling then. In the past month, we only had two customers. One actually, since they only rented one room."   
  
"Really?" Remus could barely keep his tone nonchalant and detached. His hand trembled, and he stuffed it in his pocket to hide. "Only one room?"   
  
"Yes, just a little more than a week ago. They're still here actually. Three customers in two weeks. Guess it's our lucky month?"   
  
But all those words slipped right past Remus without registering in his mind. His steps faltered slightly.   
  
"Oh, it'll be nice to have some company," Remus said, his voice deceptively calm.   
  
"Well, I'm not sure you'll see them much. I've only taken meals to them, a man and a sick little boy, poor thing. He's quite a sweet little dear. Really shy, unlike most four year olds."   
  
_ Four? But Harry was six and a half, was it the right person?   
  
  
  
  
  
_ *   
  
  
  
  
  
Sirius' reaction was sort of strange, but he wasn't quite stable then...   
  
Reference to Harry calling Sirius dad is from Evie's story, The First Word (http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=533582) . Go read her story or I will personally chase after you with thumbscrews! (I should have emailed you about this beforehand, sorry Evie! If you want my head, I only have a copper platter to go along *hides*) Anyway, go read her story and review!   
  
*hides from kaydee* Okay, I'll take your advice and save self mutilation for the very last chapter of WS.   
  
Umm… longer chapters usually means I take longer to update. Horrible habit of nitpicking, I go back and reedit a chapter about 2 to 11 times. Well, it depends on what you want! Longer chapters for longer lag time, or shorter chapters and about 2 to 3 days per update? Although the next few chapters are about a page or so longer than chapter 17. That was a short chapter due to AP constraints...   
  
The motel name was some place I got from California… I think… Wait… that hotel's called Doubletree… never mind. But it sort of serves its purpose. Remus seems to be taking a long time, but he doesn't seem to be the type who would barge into a place without first contacting Dumbledore, making all the preparations, etc. Plus, he didn't really know where they were to begin with. The 2nd scene takes place 2 days after the first.   
  
*sigh* I did something evil. I started a new story. *groan* It was sort of a random, inspirational thing, but… urg! Well…   
  
PoM's hiatus story will be posted with chapter 7 of PoM, which should be coming, depending on how chapter 8 goes. It's really frustrating… since having two whole chapters of explanation to the clueless James is just as boring to read as to write. Urg.   
  



	19. of dreaming of birthdays

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
There's a time discrepancy in his story… The second and third scene takes place before Remus is there, but its spliced between the two scenes, but just pretend it makes sense. Sorry about that…   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter twenty - of dreaming of birthdays   
  
  
  
"He has the brightest green eyes I've ever seen. It's a pity he's so weak. That man rushed him in at two in the morning and drove us all mad running around with towels, hot water, and the like. He had to call a doctor too, that was how ill the child was."   
  
_ It was Harry. And Sirius was helping him. Sirius tried to save him.   
  
_ Remus let a small sigh of relief, façade slipping altogether.   
  
"He's ill?" Remus echoed.   
  
_ Could Harry's condition be as serious as she described? He hadn't thought it was that grave…   
  
_ He was sure if the lady had glanced at him then, she would have declared him a ghost with the extent the color drained from his face.   
  
The lady sighed again, "Yes, I'm not sure about the details, but it's not contagious, don't worry. I didn't hear what the doctor said, but it seems that the boy was…" she lowered her voice mysteriously. "abused."   
  
Remus' chest clinched painfully.   
  
"That man has been taking good care of him, right?" he asked shakily.   
  
"Yes, as far as I know. I don't believe it was him who hurt the poor child. That man has been by his side day and night since they came. He had to practically feed the boy a few times," the lady smiled softly at the memory. "The little boy was so embarrassed, but you could tell he loved his father very much. If all fathers would be that attentive to their children…" she sighed.   
  
Remus nearly tripped in shock at her words. James and Lily's murderer, the traitor, trying everything he could do to save the one boy that was his downfall? How could that be possible? Did Sirius have really want to use Harry as a tool, as Arabella described? That was the only plausible explanation for his actions.   
  
Whatever she said after that, Remus couldn't remember. It was all a haze, following the lady into his room. He wasn't even sure of the color of his bed or the walls. Numbly, he took the key from her hands and gave her a rather forced smile.   
  
The whirlwind of thoughts and confusion was so strong that it just became a blur.   
  
Sirius was helping Harry.   
  
_ Which room are they in, I wonder? They're all in the first story…   
  
_ Sirius had been taking care of him. He even called a doctor for him and treating him like his own son.   
  
_ I wonder how Sirius will react when he sees me…   
  
_ But Sirius did rescue Harry from the Dursleys. What if he really had ulterior motives?   
  
_ Sirius, what are you trying to pull?_ Remus desperately wondered.   
  
  
  
  
  
Harry closed his eyes in an imitation of sleep, muffling one ear against the pillow and covering the other with the uncast hand. He couldn't seem to move his neck enough to drag the cushion over his head; the gash stung far too much after several days of laying on it. The flash of light illuminated the curtains with an eerie brightness, making shadows dance across waxy walls, so bright he could even sense it behind closed lids. Harry stiffened, bracing himself for the thunder that followed.   
  
It wasn't that he was afraid of thunder, but it was the voices that those rippling light always left in its wake. Every time the skies screamed, he would have odd memories of a woman pleading and a green light flooding his vision. He could never sleep during those nights.   
  
A low rumble shook the glass.   
  
Harry flinched. The figure beside him shifted immediately, and a weight was at the edge of his bed. There was a hesitant though on his forehead, as if he was afraid to disturb him. It still took a lot of self control not to cringe in response; he knew the person meant no harm, but it was so difficult to break the instinct.   
  
"Can't sleep?" Sirius asked quietly. "Does the storm bother you?"   
  
Harry blinked, trying to bring the face into focus, a bit disoriented at the tone.   
  
It had been two days since he gained a godfather, and he still had trouble adjusting. Ever since he could remember, he had always wished for some long lost relative to rescue him from the Dursleys. Anyone, he didn't even care who. After Uncle Vernon was especially angry, Harry would huddle in a corner of the cupboard and think about a faceless person visiting him the next day; those imaginations kept the tears at bay, kept him from falling completely. But he never actually believed they could be true.   
  
And when that wish suddenly came true, Harry was caught between joy and fear.   
  
Did Sirius help him because he was his godfather? Dudley didn't have a godfather, so Harry wasn't sure. But whenever he got sick, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia waited on him hand and foot. But the differences between him and his cousin were so great that Harry never really thought about being treated like that. But now, he couldn't imagine what it would be like if Sirius wasn't there and he was still at the Dursleys.   
  
But what if Sirius suddenly thought that Harry was a freak, like Uncle Vernon? What if he realized that Harry was a worthless, annoying child who didn't deserve any attention? Would he leave? But Harry wouldn't bring himself to believe someone so kind would throw him away. Padfoot didn't, so Sirius wouldn't either. Harry had no idea why he often compared Padfoot's actions with his godfather's, seeing that he wasn't human, but it was so instinctive.   
  
He abruptly remembered Sirius was still waiting for a response, and hastily shook his head.   
  
"Alright," But Sirius seemed unconvinced, expression clouding in even more concern than before.   
  
"It's just that… it the light reminds me of something…" Harry said, feeling an odd obligation to explain when his godfather seemed so worried. "I can't remember the details…"   
  
"Halloween," Sirius suddenly breathed, paling as he sank back against the headboard. "There was a storm that night."   
  
Those words made no sense to the child, but that wasn't what he was distracted by. Sirius seemed pained again, as if there was a demon eating at him from the inside. Harry noticed, not for the first time, the weariness in his countenance, and the sunk rings around his eyes.   
  
"You look tired," Harry blurted out suddenly, after a few minutes of tense silence.   
  
Sirius looked taken aback at his remark, and he stared at him with a sort of incredulity as if he didn't quite believe Harry was there. He shook his head as if clearing his thoughts, and forced a shaky smile. "I'm fine, don't worry about me. You need to get some sleep."   
  
He stood again, purposefully avoiding Harry's eyes as he tucked the blankets snugly around him. Harry chewed his lip guiltily as he watched his godfather. Sirius had gone from an unusually thin to unhealthily undernourished. His shoulder length hair fell in thick, tangled strands, and his paleness was close to matching the child's. Harry couldn't help but wonder if it was because of him.   
  
"Sorry," Harry whispered brokenly.   
  
Sirius stiffened at the word, eyes wide with disbelief. "What…? Harry what are you talking about?"   
  
Harry shook his head, throat constricting so tightly that he could barely breathe. He jerked forward abruptly, and buried his face against Sirius shoulder in an action that surprised them both. "Sorry! Sorry… that you have to take care of me… I'm so sorry! I… I'm always making you sad… I…"   
  
"God, Harry… please, no," Sirius choked out, so strained with pain that it made Harry flinch. Arms wrapped around his shoulders so tightly that his back screamed in protest, but Harry barely even registered it. There was a weight as his godfather buried his face in his hair, completely crushing him against his shirt. "No, Harry please don't apologize. No, no, no, you don't understand…"   
  
  
  
  
  
// _  
  
Harry shielded his eyes against the blinding summer sun, watching the passing crowd with a mixture of awe and fear. The walls were tall around his head, and he had to stare straight above him to see the curve of the arch.   
  
A part of Harry's mind smiled. He knew this place. He dreamt about it before. And this was a dream he liked, but he could never remember why. The details were always lost, but something about this dream kept coming back to haunt him. What was it…?   
  
Voices intertwined in an endless echo through the narrow, cobblestone streets reached him clearly. Harry shrank back, intimidated. He never liked crowds; they were too loud, too frighteningly loud, just like Uncle Vernon when he was angry…   
  
Something soft and silky brushed his arm. Harry turned, smiling in relief when he noticed the towering form of Padfoot beside him. It wasn't surprising to see him in this dream. Now that he thought about it, Padfoot was always in this dream, he just didn't remember. Perhaps that's why he seemed so familiar.   
  
Padfoot nudged his shoulder encouragingly, offering comfort and urging him to step out into the street. Harry shook his head, shrinking back behind the wall. The dog seemed to sigh resignedly.   
  
Padfoot took a few steps back, and instantly, his body began to change. It happened so quickly, yet it seemed so slow at the same time. The fur vanished, and skin took its place. Padfoot grew longer and narrower, his nose pulling into his face, and the paws lengthening into fingers. Seconds later, a man stood in its place. A man with black hair, pale blue eyes, wearing a long cloak that didn't seem to be the natural fashion that Harry usually saw.   
  
_ Sirius…   
  
_ Harry should have been shocked at the sudden change, but he wasn't. He just smiled widely and took the proffered hand. Without protest, he followed Padfoot, or was it Sirius? into the thickly packed street. A tall, white, classically designed building towered overhead in the distance. The trail was curved haphazardly, shops crowded into every available corner. It looked like an ancient mall without the overhead ceiling, together with rotting wooden signs in front of every store and glass windows that fractured light unevenly.   
  
_ Madam Malkin's Robes for all Occasions_ said one sign.   
  
_ Eelops Owl Emporium_ said another.   
  
One store that stood out distinctly in his mind was the musty, dark bookstore that looked like a library all stuffed into Dudley's room. Books stuck out from every crack and corner imaginable, and some books chased each other or held long debates of which one was more important. Harry stared at everything and anything with fascination.   
  
Suddenly, he was very much aware of how tightly Sirius was holding his hand. Harry glanced at him questioningly, noticing for the first time the eyes watching them. The noise subsided as they neared, whispers following their passage.   
  
"Blimey, that's Harry Potter!"   
  
"_The_ Harry Potter?"   
  
"…just a little boy… so hard to imagine…"   
  
They watched him with a strange foreign expression, it seemed to be… reverence? But to Sirius, they scowled and hissed.   
  
"Sirius Black!!"   
  
"… he's innocent!"   
  
"…you never know. He could be lying…"   
  
"Someone get Harry Potter away from him…"   
  
Sirius placed an arm around him defensively, glaring at those who stared. Harry cringed from those stares, paling in embarrassment and some fear when he realized they were speaking about him. He buried his face in the folds of Sirius' cloak, trying to hide. He shivered when some enraged words and shocked gasps reached his ears.   
  
"The poor boy! He doesn't even know he's being led by his own parent's murderer…"   
  
"Hush!"   
  
"… traitor to his own parents! It's cruel!"   
  
"Quiet! They've…"   
  
Sirius' arm jerked convulsively. He lifted him hastily, and half walked, half ran down the street away from the low whispered and enraged glares.   
  
"Don't worry about them," Sirius whispered, although he sounded bitterly aggravated. "Ignore what they say."   
  
Harry nodded. He trusted him. It was so instinctive.   
  
He looked over Sirius' shoulder as they walked through the teeming street, to a display window packet thickly with people. Children ranging from early to late teens plastered their faces against it as if what lay inside was their salvation. The crowds parted like the sea before them with just one glance at his godfather, scurried away to avoid eye contact. Harry blinked at them in confusion, then at Sirius. But when the older man's wasn't intimidating at all. He ruffled Harry's hair with a fatherly affection that sent a warm feeling of comfort that he never knew before.   
  
"So, Harry," he began with an eager smile. "What would you like for your birthday?"   
  
And that's where the dream always ended.   
  
_ \\   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
The dream sequence was actually something I wrote just to get rid of writer's block about a month and a half ago. Does it tie in well? It seems only to take up space… I sort of got attached to it, and tired to stuff it somewhere along the WS timeline, and it got jammed into here. Then I had to sort of rewrite the passage around it to incorporate it… stupid, isn't it? The time frame sort of got pushed up too, but I was trying to solidify their godfather godson relationship before Remus confronts them. Ack… does it feel awkward or rushed at all? (see kaydee, I didn't bash! *hides just in case*)   
  
Remus is taking a very long time to meet Sirius, isn't he? *cackle* But… *sigh* they haven't seen each other since chapter 1. All these circumstances just skew them inches away.   
  
In response to stormyfire, Godric's Hollow is actually their real residence from Hp book 1. I hope that helps!   
  
After AP Chem (which was... *sigh*... I did a practice exam and missed 7 out of 8 questions. Oh wow... I hope that doesn't reflect on my true score... *groan*), I'm probably going to be posting a lot faster now. Lets say, every 2 to 3 days?   
  



	20. of opening doors

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter twenty - of opening doors   
  
  
  
The moment the lady's footsteps faded into a distance, Remus forcibly tore himself from the numb haze. He stood, dropping his luggage haphazardly on the bed, and concentrated on keeping his hands steady.   
  
The recent information puzzled him to no end. If the lady had blatantly stated that Sirius was treating Harry horribly, he would have searched every single room until he found them. But to hear that Sirius was actually helping the child, he wasn't sure what to do. A part of him still wanted to storm through every door, but the other was afraid. Afraid that he would find Harry alive and possibly even loved, he would lose some of the reason to hate the traitor. Remus had built the hatred against the murderer for five years already, and to have it suddenly torn away was disconcerting. Remus wondered if he'd ever get to the bottom of this without remembering Sirius with mixed feelings.   
  
But he couldn't leave Harry with that traitor. Who knew what sort of lies Sirius could be planting into the child's head?   
  
Systematically, he unpacked his nearly weightless belongings, demeanor much calmer than he felt.   
  
The portkey he placed in his pocket, his wand he placed in the other. He drew a bottle full of colorless, tasteless sleeping potions that would probably stun Sirius until he was taken to Hogwarts, expression slipping into one of bitterness as he examined it in his hands. He could probably slip it in their food tonight before Martha took it to them.   
  
An unfamiliar crinkled package stared at him from the depths of his small cloth bag. It was bulky but flimsy at the same time. The uneven surface caved in when he placed his hand against it. He never packed it, that much was certain. Arabella must have slipped it into his luggage before he left. Curious, Remus peeled back the paper wrapping, and stepped back in surprise.   
  
_ James' invisibility cloak… _  
  
The silvery mesh stared back at him innocently, shimmering faintly in the dimly lit hotel room. With trembling hands, he lifted the feather light cloak, feeling the liquid cloth run between his fingers like mercury. It caught the rays of the sun that just peeked through his window, sending seams of rainbow glows that reflected across the walls.   
  
Remus smiled wistfully despite himself, recalling all those adventures he had in his teenage years under the same cloak. They were so foolish and careless then…   
  
Slowly, gently, as if fearful that the silky cloth would dissipate under his touch, Remus slipped it over his shoulders.   
  
It as ironic, using James' cloak to track down his son. And possibly throwing Sirius back in Azkaban with the dementor's kiss.   
  
Remus scowled inwardly at the thought. A small note slipped out between the folds. Remus picked it up with a steady hand.   
  
  
_ Remus   
  
James cloak, use it well. Try to locate them but do not act.   
Send us your location. We will be there by that night.   
Be careful.   
  
Dumbledore   
  
  
_ Dumbledore really thought things through, Remus decided. Invisibility charms were too complicated to cast and difficult to maintain. Just one slip would give him away. With the cloak, he no longer needed to wait. Remus wondered what the headmaster was thinking, doing one thing and telling him another. Sending the cloak was an obvious request for him to act, knowing that once his former pupil received it, no amount of logic would make him stay.   
  
Slipping on the cloak, Remus moved from the sanctuary of the room. Mentally, he was already bracing himself for an intensive search. He half expected Sirius to cover them both with obscurity, even in a near deserted hotel with just twenty rooms. He half expected Sirius to use whatever dark arts he learned to make their presence next to invisible, and he would have to dig through the front desk's records just to find them. But as he paced the distance between his room to the receptionist desk, a black bag caught his eye. A trash bag most likely, stuffed full of stained bandages and plastic utensils. It hung on the door knob of an inconspicuous door, a deliberate giveaway.   
  
Either Sirius never expected to be found, or whatever occurrences were making him careless. Remus entertained the thought of Sirius purposely misleading people who would come in search.   
  
He broke the lock with a whispered unlocking charm and slowly creaked the door open only hesitantly. Even from the crack, he could see jackets lying haphazardly on the floor and various utensils that scattered over the desks. Old habits were hard to break, and Sirius was never someone known for his cleanliness. Plastic bottles lined the dresser, and even from a distance, Remus could tell they were muggle medicine. He wasn't sure what to think of it. He strained his ears to pick up any sound, but there was none.   
  
Cautiously, he opened the door.   
  
The room was empty.   
  
  
  
  
  
Sirius had to blink several times to rid the graininess in his eyes, and even then he was only partially conscious. With the extent his thoughts tend to stray, he wondered just how much the lack of sleep was getting to him. His jaw was numb from where it was pressed against the unforgiving wood of the headboard, and his back was twisted between his chair and the bed. But he barely felt those, gently rocking the sleeping child back and forth.   
  
Sirius pushed a few stray locks of hair to hide the jagged curse scar, and lightly traced a fading bruise over the child's cheek. He apologized… to him. The child was sorry about the trouble he caused, sorry that he even was hurt to begin with, sorry that he always made him upset. Sirius wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.   
  
Carefully, he extracted himself from the tangled blankets, gently lifting the child from the bed. The room was suffocating; he just realized neither of them had breathed fresh air in a week. Sliding open the bay windows to the balcony, Sirius stepped outside. There was no chairs on the slab on concrete; Sirius settled on leaning against the closed door with the child's small form resting against his shoulder. Drawing a deep breath, he stared at the dimming sky.   
  
Disturbed by the cool breeze, Harry stirred in his cocoon of blankets. Sirius shifted his weight, easing him into a more comfortable position.   
  
Harry squinted at him, looking even younger than the already undernourished boy without his glasses. Noticing his hand latched onto his godfather's sleeve, he dropped it as if burned and pulled away awkwardly.   
  
"Sorry," he whispered quickly.   
  
Sirius cringed.   
  
"Harry, don't be sorry," Sirius murmured, making an obvious effort at suppression. "I should be the one apologizing." He trailed off, unable to continue.   
  
Harry stilled, emerald eyes almost piercing in its intensity as he watched him.   
  
Sirius drew a shuddering breath, running his hand over his face harshly. "It's James and Lily, your parents," he whispered hoarsely. "I… things happened, and I…"   
  
"Do I… remind you of them? Is that why you're always unhappy?" Harry asked timidly, sinking in the cocoon of blankets as if trying to hide.   
  
Sirius didn't stop to question how someone his age would understand something so complicated. He was already shaking his head, furious and horrified at the idea that the child could even think that. "No!" he said firmly, louder than he intended. "I made a mistake that hurt them a lot… and it… it hurt you too. It's too complicated to explain, and I promise I will tell you everything when you're old enough. But… not now. I'm sorry."   
  
Harry was silent, but his gaze never drifted from his godfather's face. Sirius wondered for a moment, with the strange sort of glint in his eyes he only saw in Dumbledore, if Harry already knew and understood.   
  
"You didn't mean to hurt them," Harry finally whispered with a quiet determination that made him seem far older than just six years of age.   
  
"No, I didn't. I swear, I would never hurt James and Lily," Sirius choked out, too lost in his memories to register that Harry's words was a statement rather than a question.   
  
Harry didn't answer at first. Tentatively, the child lifted his hand as if trying to touch his face. Sirius lowered his head, confused as to what he was trying to do, and once his arm could reach, placed his hand on his head. Sirius stilled, thoroughly perplexed by the odd gesture.   
  
"You… you're…" Harry's eyes glazed, blinking up at him as if recalling a distant memory   
  
"What is it?" Sirius asked, immediately concerned.   
  
Harry gave his hair an odd pat that was frighteningly reminiscent of Padfoot's morning head rub; Sirius could feel the color draining from his face.   
  
Harry's eyes flickered.   
  
"You're Padfoot," Harry whispered, sounding a bit bewildered.   
  
Sirius nearly dropped the child in surprise. He staggered, openly gaping. The confusion and shock in his mind completely stole his ability to speak for a moment.   
  
How was it possible that Harry knew? He was delirious when Sirius first told him over six days ago, and he was asleep the two times he transformed. How could Harry know?   
  
"How did you know?" Sirius choked out.   
  
"A dream," Harry whispered timidly.   
  
Sirius was speechless for another minute. Harry dreamt of these things? Could it be possible? But the art of divination passed through bloodlines and both Lily and James practically failed the class. And for someone so young to have such accurate dreams were rare.   
  
Sirius swallowed, bewildered. He couldn't decide how Harry could have known. Perhaps the child had hidden talents that accelerated his abilities far above the norm? Or perhaps the years of abuse had twisted his abilities into another form?   
  
Harry frowned slightly in puzzlement. "But… how?" he finally asked.   
  
_ That was what I want to know too_, Sirius thought numbly.   
  
"It's magic," Sirius said slowly.   
  
"Magic?" Harry echoed. He sounded oddly hopeful, but a cloud passed over his features. "But Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon said…" Harry trailed off.   
  
Sirius scowled bitterly at just the mention of his relatives. He remembered Lily's older sister's absolute aversion to anything out of the ordinary. But Harry was easily startled already, and Sirius had to be very careful about reacting violently. He drew a deep, calming breath. "Don't worry about what they say. They're just the type of muggles that hate us or anything that has to do with us."   
  
"Muggle?" Harry echoed again, looking as if he had just tasted his first chocolate.   
  
"Non-magic people, it's…. sort of complicated to explain everything," Sirius sighed in frustration. "I'm not good at explaining these things"   
  
But when Harry tilted his head to one side inquiringly, Sirius found himself launched into long description about wizards and their abilities. He talked about anything and everything he could think of: animagus transformations, Hogwarts, quidditch to the child resting quietly against him.   
  
"Then Remus must be a wizard too," Harry whispered. "He can change into a silver wolf."   
  
Sirius almost choked at the extent his throat pinched. Harry knew about Remus' lycanthrope? Sirius was pretty sure his friend would never tell Harry about that. They never spoke of Remus' condition, and it would be impossible even if he did retain his memories from infancy. And no type of magic could tell such things, especially as inexperienced as Harry was. Unless Harry was really…   
  
_ Impossible.   
  
_ "He is," Sirius admitted haltingly.   
  
Harry knitted his brow as he gathered his thoughts, "Mum and Dad…"   
  
"Were wizards," Sirius said softly.   
  
Harry's eyes glowed with excitement, and he leaned forward eagerly.   
  
Sirius smiled, brushing his fingers through Harry's thick and unruly hair. "They were some of the best in their time. They met in a wizard school, you know? I went there with Remus, your father, and your mother used to hate us because we would make fun of her all the time. She charmed our clothes to stick to the ceiling of the common room after James turned her hair into quills…" Sirius trailed off, speaking mostly to himself than to Harry.   
  
Soundlessly, the door, hidden by the heavy curtains, swung open on oiled hinges.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
Ack, since everyone wanted Remus, I cut 2 chapters out of WS. Chapter 20 was a composition of 3 chapters; there's about 30 chapters again… yeah, their meeting was reaaaaaally dragged out. I sort of want to bash, but kaydee would kill me...   
  
*sigh* Harry needs to know about Sirius' guilt to his parents, even if he doesn't understand. He needs to know a little about wizards too… *sigh* So it may seem dragged out, but I'm trying very hard to incorporate everything and keep the plot going! But I'll leave any bashing to you. Chapters 16 to 22 are the lowest rung in the valley, everything after that are downhill runs without breaks, mostly because of the emotional issues involved in the middle of the story. Well… if I'm torturing you, its not intended!! But Giesbrecht probably doesn't believe me... or Tarawen... or Nuts... or... *hides*   
  
I'm glad you all liked the dream! *claps* Nicky hit the nail on the head! *cheers*   
  
Umm… through the AP's, I forgot about finals. Finals are next week, so I'm going to be gone for the majority of next week again… I probably could squeeze an update on Monday or Tuesday though... humm...   
  



	21. of invisible men

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
There are a lot of overlapping time frames in this story, especially in the slowly crawly parts. Last chapter, the second scene took place simultaneously as the first, and in this chapter, it picks up about five minutes after. It's a draft, I wasn't really planning to post this today.   
  
Was suppose to be studying, but then remembered it was MercS and Tilly's birthday today. Happy birthday!! I hope you enjoy this post!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter twenty-two - of invisible men   
  
  
  
Remus scanned the empty hotel room with mounting unease. In his agitation, he nearly tripped over the helm of the invisibility cloak as he made this way through the room.   
  
_ Could Sirius have ran again? Could he have taken Harry and just left? Or was he entirely misled? What if something happened?   
  
_ Those questions played like a broken record in his mind. He was sure in two hours time, he would be insane.   
  
But all the signs said that Sirius was merely outside with the child. There was money hidden in duffle bag, laundered clothes folded neatly on the table, warm soup in the coffee machine. Sirius had substituted that as a stove, and Remus noticed several packages of powder lying to one side. Curious, he held it up to the light.   
  
_ Protein_ it said simply, followed by a list of ingredients that made no sense to his mind.   
  
Remus slowly placed it back on the counter, returning to his position beside the window. He frowned thoughtfully. The lady had been truthful when she said that Sirius was taking care of James' son. The signs had said that Harry received medical care from muggle doctors. He seemed alive and well, but…   
  
The soft platter of water against the window echoed through the room listlessly. He peeled back a corner of the curtain, watching the overshadowed sky and the moist earth that stretched beneath it. It must have started to rain seconds ago, and by the sight of the sky, it was threatening to be an overnight downpour.   
  
A shadow behind the glass suddenly swam into his vision through fractured glass; Remus took an involuntary step back.   
  
The bay windows slid open with a sudden lurch, and a figure burst inside. For a moment, Remus almost didn't recognize the man. His hair was long, combed neatly and tied in a low ponytail, moist and glossy from the dewdrops of rain. He was unhealthily thin, even under the thin cotton blanket. He had a small bundle in his arms that he was obviously trying to shade from the rain, hutched over the form protectively.   
  
Remus could feel his hands shaking violently; he forcefully kept his gaze unwavering. Sirius changed so much the past five years; he lost the mischievous gleam in his eyes, the energy that he lit the room by just being there. Sirius' usually pale blue eyes were overshadowed with gray, there was a shadow in his face that spoke of pain, but at the same time, relief? It made no sense…   
  
Remus had prepared to curse him on the spot, but then, seeing how cruel the years had been on him, Remus didn't seem to be able to. Those childhood memories were holding him back. Even if Sirius had betrayed them, he had still been his friend once.   
  
Sirius pushed the door shut with the edge of his shoe, and instantly made his way to the bed. It took Remus a moment to register the slight form of James' son, nested securely in the murderer's arms. Remus' throat constricted even further at the brief glimpse of the child. Harry seemed to have lost the little weight he had; the paleness in his skin was disturbing.   
  
"Did you get wet?" Sirius asked, prodding him lightly on the hand.   
  
Harry blinked groggily, shaking his head before leaning against his godfather again.   
  
Sirius smiled, "Go to sleep. You look tired."   
  
"Only a little," Harry admitted reluctantly, but he rubbed his eyes with a hand as if trying to stay awake. There was a fragility in his tone, like those who had suffered a degenerative illness and found themselves physically and mentally drained. But at the same time, the child sounded oddly blithe, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.   
  
Harry was obviously much more than a little tired, but Sirius seemed well acquainted with his character. He sighed and shook his head, "Don't try to push yourself. The doctor says you're not recovering as fast as you should."   
  
Remus hand tightened in its fist.   
  
Sirius placed the child gently on the bed, carefully removing the makeshift coat before tucking him under the covers. The blankets were unusually thick on Harry's bed, stacked with multiple layers that cushioned the surface. Harry sank against it like a limp puppet the moment he was laid down, burying himself in the bleached folds. His thinness was frightening, but Remus couldn't decide whether it was from the Dursleys or from Sirius.   
  
"Is it cold in here? Should I turn up the heat?" Sirius softly asked.   
  
Harry shook his head again, nestling deeper in the covers.   
  
Sirius smiled widely, lightly ruffling the boy's hair. Retrieving a small mug, he poured a steaming, creamy liquid from the coffee cooker, no longer used for coffee, and brought it to the bedside.   
  
"Well, you should take some antibiotics. The doctor will kill me once he finds out it you were out in the rain," Sirius said quietly. "Here, drink something warm before you sleep. You won't feel so dehydrated."   
  
He lifted Harry with infinite care, almost as if handling fragile glass, and leaned him against his shoulder. Harry made a small noise of assent, sluggishly stirring. He didn't flinch, didn't pull away; the child even nestled closer against his godfather and rested his head against his chest. Remus stiffened in shock, unsure whether it was Harry's weariness that took away his shyness, or the trust that Sirius managed to gain.   
  
_ He did care for Harry, he had to. There was no way to falsify the parental affection Sirius had for the child. It just wasn't possible.   
  
_ Sirius' eyes would soften as he watched Harry with a sort of concern that Remus only saw shades of during his years at Hogwarts. And Harry was far more at ease than Remus could ever remember. He seemed less haunted and less afraid, more like his age.   
  
"What about you?" Harry asked suddenly, looking up at his godfather past heavily laden eyes.   
  
Sirius stilled; he seemed unsettled by the focus somehow, avoiding Harry's eyes and distractedly wringing out the edges of the blanket.   
  
"Don't worry about me. You just worry about getting better," Sirius said, giving Harry a rather forced smile. He simply set the mug at the desk, and eased the child back against the pillows.   
  
Harry blinked, giving Sirius an odd, searching look, and a heavy gloom passed over his eyes. He sank back against the pillow. There was something bothering him that he was hesitant to voice; his emerald eyes spoke far louder than his words.   
  
"What is it?" Sirius asked, smoothing out the child's hair. He seemed well acquainted with Harry's character, and read his facial expressions with expert skill.   
  
"What's going to happen afterwards? Am I going to go back to the Dursleys?" Harry asked almost fearfully.   
  
Remus' stomach clenched and plummeted at the sight. The expression on the child's face made him wonder just how much that question haunted him.   
  
"Of course not!" Sirius stood up with a jerk, voice harsher than before. He sounded bitterly angry, but made an obvious effort to suppress an outburst. "I'm not letting you go back there. In a few weeks, I'm going to book us tickets to America, and you're going to live with me."   
  
"Really?" Harry's face lit up in excitement. He examined Sirius expression, trying to discern the truthfulness of those words.   
  
Sirius grinned, ruffling his hair slightly. "Where would you like to go? Do you want to choose a place?"   
  
Harry broke into a shy smile. Remus stared in surprise; through the short week he spent with the boy, he had never seen the child display any signs of happiness or relief. The extent of Harry's attachment to Sirius stretched deeper than Remus ever imagined. If he was told the truth, he would reject it outright. Remus paled; to take the one person Harry had grown to trust away would hurt him more than any beating ever would. He would never trust again.   
  
Sirius moved from his position at the bed, smoothing out the sheet, and arranging it more snugly around the child. "If you're tired, sleep. I'll wake you later, okay?" Sirius said, giving the child's hand a comforting squeeze before tucking his arm under the covers.   
  
Remus backed away, unsure of what to think or do. To see Sirius so defensive and protective of the child was something he wasn't prepared for. It was suddenly hard to imagine Sirius guilty. But could Sirius be lying? Could he…?   
  
Sirius lingered at the edge of the bed even after pulling the sheets securely around him, watching the child with a sort of sadness, and even regret. Tentatively, he reached out and smoothed the child's windswept hair.   
  
It was impossible to discern Harry's expression from his position beside the window, but Remus noted Sirius' with mounting confusion. Sirius looked truly concerned, with a demeanor that was fooling even him. Even for his blatant betrayal five years ago, Remus found his hatred and bitterness faltering.   
  
He took a few hesitant steps towards the door, torn between leaving the pair or contacting Dumbledore. He knew he had a task to fulfill, but the idea of abandoning the child to a murderer, however kind he seemed, was still caustic. Remus lingered at the side of the bed, fingering the wand in the depths of his pocket.   
  
"Will you finish the story?" Harry abruptly asked, eagerness audible in his childish voice.   
  
Remus had paused right above the doorknob. He turned back jerkily, apprehensive about the stories Sirius was telling the child. If the traitor was truly turning Harry to the dark, he had to be stopped immediately.   
  
"You're never going to rest until I do," Sirius said with a resigned sigh. He ruffled the child's hair fondly, a familiar grin tracing his features.   
  
Harry's eyes brightened in excitement, but clouded by a film of weariness.   
  
"Well, that night was our first real venture into the Forbidden Forest in our animagus forms," Sirius slowly began, drawing up a chair to the bedside and resting his arms on the edge of the bed. "And we still didn't know the place very well. We were too dense to think about exploring and testing out our forms on a long term basis, so things didn't exactly go… that well…"   
  
Remus froze, blood draining from his face. A mixture of shock, anger, and disbelief was stirring in a torrent in his mind. Sirius was telling Harry their childhood experiences, the memories he discarded the moment he turned to the dark. How could he? He never had the right!   
  
But as he listened to Sirius' account of their first full moon in the forest, he began to notice that they were not fabricated. Everything he was telling the child was true, although somehow, all the events that involved Peter dropped out of the narration. Perhaps it was the event at the street that made Sirius bitter, seeing how it was Peter who tracked him down. Remus inwardly frowned.   
  
"… wandered into some odd place in the forest with human sized spiders. We got chased for a whole hour; your dad kept getting his antlers caught in the branches…"   
  
The wave of fury struck so violently that Remus had to catch onto the edge of the divan to steady himself. To hear Sirius speaking of James, the friend he betrayed, and to James' son, was just too much. Remus gritted his teeth, withdrawing the wand from the depths of his pocket, hand forcibly steady as he pointed it at the back of Sirius' head.   
  
Harry's eyes widened with an emotion akin to terror. He made a move to sit up, but Sirius placed a restraining hand on his shoulder.   
  
"What is it?" Sirius asked quickly.   
  
Harry didn't answer at first, his eyes darting through the room wildly. But when he saw nothing out of place, he hesitated.   
  
"I… I don't know," Harry admitted slowly. "I thought there was something…"   
  
Harry jerked up, entire body stiffening. The expression dropped like lead from his face, and he stared past Sirius at a patch of deceptively empty space. Remus froze when the child fixed a piercing gaze on him.   
  
"Moony?" Harry whispered.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
Ack, cliffy yet again. Humm… I wonder if Nick is like MercS or Tilly. *looks for a closet*   
  
Well, things are progressing. Remus technically was suppose to wait until Dumbledore gets there with backup, but kind of lost patience and tracked them down by himself. Then Harry blew his cover… so… *sigh*   
  
This chapter went through so many drafts, but in the end, it… does it seem choppy? I'm open to any constructive criticism. This is still a draft version, since I haven't really proofread this draft, so…   
  



	22. of miscommunication

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter twenty-one - of miscommunications   
  
  
  
Sirius jerked convulsively, elbow grazing the half-empty mug as he jumped to his feet. Remus staggered back, too stunned to utter a sound.   
  
_ Harry saw… How?!_   
  
The corner of the divan snagged the helm of his cloak, and the fabric slipped from his head and his shoulder like solid water. Remus groped for it before it fell completely, desperately trying to salvage his position. There was a deafening crunch as his shoe met a brittle styrofoam cup.   
  
"Re… Remus?"   
  
He stilled. The invisibility cloak slid from his loosened fingers, pooling into a shimmering mass on the shabby carpet.   
  
Remus wasn't exactly sure how long they just stood, staring at each other. The silence between them was almost tangible, like the icy fingers of early morning. It sank against them with a heavy hand, muffling all sounds in the room to the barest of sounds.   
  
Sirius was right there, in front of him. His friend of nine years. James and Lily's closest confident, their murderer, their traitor. Remus wanted to curse him with the killing curse right then, but he couldn't even bring himself to raise his wand.   
  
//  
  
_ So you think it'll work?   
  
Sirius, no! How many times do I have to tell you, don't even think about it! How the hell did you even get James and Peter to agree to this?   
  
Aw, come on, Moony! We're over that stage already! We're suppose to be searching for the spell. Besides, James was easy enough. Peter took a little convincing though…   
  
Do you have any idea how difficult that would be?! And even if you do, by some ridiculous stroke of luck, find the spell, learn to use it, then manage to transform, the risks involved?   
  
You sound like McGonagall…   
  
I'm serious!   
  
Moony, I would laugh right now, but I don't think you'd appreciate it.   
  
Sirius! Urg… god… the… wha… waz… Sirius!   
  
I heard you the first time there. Listen, we're got it all figured out. We're going to try.   
  
No!!   
  
What's the worse thing that could happen?   
  
Do you really want me to say? I could go on and on…   
  
No, Remus. I mean, to you!   
  
… Sirius, if anything happens to you, James, or Peter, I'll… you know the sort of guilt I'll have to deal with? Do you have any idea… you've all been such great friends already, I… Don't. Okay? just listen to me this once. I promise I'll do your potions homework for a week. Just don't!   
  
_\\  
  
It was Sirius who first thought of the animagus transformations, Remus mused bitterly. He had been the most loyal friend, a bit rash at times, but the most loyal. How much things have changed then…   
  
Sirius' pale blue eyes, now clouded with hidden demons, watched him with a sort of desperation and anxiety. His lips moved soundlessly every now and then, but could never seem to speak aloud. Remus stood as if he was rooted to the ground, the invisibility cloak lying useless and discarded on the floor.   
  
"Sirius, what…?" Remus broke off abruptly when his voice threatened to fail him. He glanced at Harry, as a statue, face as pale as one as he shrank deep in the sheets. Remus' eyes softened sadly as returned to his friend. "What are you doing?"   
  
"Taking care of my godson," Sirius said firmly, squeezing Harry's hand like lifeline that was going to be torn away without a moment's warning.   
  
His fist clenched compulsively in response, and Remus could feel his hands trembling in restrained anger. "What are you planning to do with him? Let Harry be, Sirius! He's been through enough already."   
  
"That's exactly why I'm getting him out of here!" Sirius snapped, glaring at Remus accusingly. "Did you see how badly he was hurt? He almost died that night! If I hadn't gotten to him, Harry would have bled to death in that cupboard. Don't tell me for all the time you were there, you didn't suspect those… those muggles that they were abusing him!"   
  
Remus stumbled back, a bit caught off guard when the ex-convict turned his anger against him. But it was true, in a way. He should have suspected it long ago…   
  
Remus looked at his hands in defeat. "I suspected it… but I never thought…" he sighed, rubbing the dreaded scar on his elbow out of habit.   
  
He's trying to distract you, he's trying to make you feel guilty so he has the advantage, a voice told him.   
  
But another part of him desperately argued for Sirius. He helped Harry when he didn't have to. He treated him like a son…   
  
"If you really wanted to help Harry, why didn't you take him to us?" Remus asked, an accusing edge to his tone.   
  
Sirius hesitated, chewing his lip. "I… I didn't want to leave him."   
  
Remus drew a sharp breath, "Sirius, this isn't amusing anymore."   
  
"It was never amusing to being with!" Sirius hissed, suddenly angry again. "Do you think I'm playing a game or something? Do you think I'm going to kill Harry off when I get bored, and I'm some insane mass murderer?"   
  
Remus shook his head, unable to bring himself to answer the question. "Sirius, I don't know what you're planning, but just leave Harry out of it! What sort of lies have you been planting in his head? What sort of…"   
  
"Are you implying that I'm teaching him to follow Voldermort?!" Sirius nearly shouted. Harry visibly flinched at the sound, and Sirius lowered his voice immediately. "You think that I'm Death Eater, don't you?"   
  
"And you're trying to deny it?" Remus gritted out. "What you did to James and Lily, what you did to Peter…"   
  
At the mention of Peter's name, Sirius' eyes blazed with a fury more potent than Remus had ever seen before. "That bastard deserves to die! I should have…"   
  
Remus snapped. All the frantic concern for Harry's safety, anger, bitterness, and pain of betrayal came flooding onto him in an overwhelming wave of emotions. He wasn't even sure what he was doing until he had lashed out. And then things happened so quickly that he couldn't even remember.   
  
He wanted to strike Sirius. He wanted to slam his fist against his face for all the agony he had placed everyone through, for James and Lily, for Harry, for countless other people. There was a shuffle and a blur. His fist connected with bony ridges and there was a muffled cry of surprise. Remus found himself standing numbly by the low table, his hand tingling at the contact. Sirius staggered back, hand pressed tightly against his shoulder. His blue eyes were wide as they stared at his friend, shocked, accusing, hurt…?   
  
Abruptly, the anger was replaced by an overwhelming wave of guilt. He didn't know why. He should be angry. He had every right to be angry. But then, why?   
  
"No!"   
  
A slight weight launched itself against Remus so suddenly that he stumbled back. Tripping to the ground, Remus' head missed contact with the coffee table by inches. He registered the mop of unruly hair and bright green eyes dazedly.   
  
"No. No. No. No!" Harry choked out, looking more frightened and angry than Remus could ever remember.   
  
The child blindly pounded his fists against the older man, but his damaged arm was obviously causing him a lot of agony. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut and his face was draining of the little color it had, his breaths coming in short gasps. Harry was too weak to cause him any pain; but to Remus, it was as if someone had raked through his flesh with claws. He stared at the boy numbly, reluctant to act but reluctant not to. _  
  
Harry wanted to defend him… didn't want him to hurt Sirius, his parent's murderer!_ Remus was torn between guilt and rage at the thought.   
  
"Harry, stop," Remus whispered almost pleadingly. Discarding his wand, he caught the child's fists gently but firmly, afraid that Harry could be hurting himself more. The child recoiled so violently that Remus instantly drew back.   
  
"Harry!" Sirius sounded just as stunned as he.   
  
In a moment, the weight was gone. Sirius pried Harry free, lifting him away. He pulled the nearly hysterical child close, running his fingers through his hair soothingly.   
  
"It's okay, it's alright," Sirius repeated in a low whispers in the boy's ear, wrapping his arm around the slight frame protectively. Harry buried his face in Sirius' shirt, trembling.   
  
Remus was too stunned to stand, openly gaping at Harry.   
  
"Why did you do that? What did you think you were doing?" Sirius muttered softly, looking pained.   
  
_ Harry loved and trusted him…   
  
_ He wanted to curse Sirius to pieces right then at the extent he corrupted James' son.   
  
"Sirius, what have you done?" Remus whispered weakly.   
  
Harry stiffened at those words, and he turned so suddenly that his face contorted in a grimace of pain. He grasped Sirius' sleeve. "No! He didn't to it! He didn't!"   
  
Remus' stomach clinched at the sight, and he could have landed another punch on the traitor's face if it wasn't for the child between them. "Harry, what has he been telling you?" Remus said, his voice dangerously soft.   
  
"Remus, if you would just listen to me for a moment…"   
  
"What sort of lies have you been telling James' son?!" Remus hissed, trying to pierce Sirius right through with his glare. He reached for his wand blindly, unable to break the gaze. "You've been using his loneness against him, taking advantage of him when all Harry had his entire life was neglect… you…"   
  
"Shut up!!" Sirius shouted, crushing Harry tightly against him. "I haven't been telling him any lies!! Listen to me…"   
  
Sirius broke off abruptly when Remus dragged himself to his feet, holding the wand right between his eyes. His face was ghastly pale, and his arm shook violently. But a determined gleam shone with the fury raging in his eyes.   
  
"Don't!" Harry gasped out, struggling, but Sirius' restraining hand kept him still. With one desperate attempt, the child tore free and lodged himself between the wand tip and his godfather. Remus nearly dropped the slab of wood in shock; even Sirius staggered back.   
  
"No! Stop. That's enough, Harry." Sirius loosened his weak grip with ease, still stunned as he ran his fingers through his untamed hair. Hw rubbed this child's back soothingly, trying not to aggravate the partially healed wounds. "Cast a sleeping charm on him, Remus. He's going to hurt himself if he keeps trying to move like this."   
  
"No!!" Harry trashed feebly in his arms, eyes wide and frantic. He opened his mouth to speak, but his next words dissolved in a fit of coughs. He hid his face against Sirius' shirt, his shoulders wrenching painfully. "It wasn't him…"   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
I'm going to be flamed for this, I can just see them coming. *grins* I'm sorry, but it was irresistible, having Remus punch Sirius which I'm sure he wanted to do after Lily and James' death. And then the story just wrote itself from then on, it actually wasn't planned, but… *sigh*   
  
Remus is really compulsive here again, but I was thinking he's not as optimistic after what happened to Harry at the Dursleys. He's a bit suspicious a lot more now. Well, does that make sense at all? He seems a little high strung here, but hey, it's Lily and James' murderer he thinks he's facing. Not to mention that he's not that stable either, after over a week of trying to track Harry down. He's sort of entitled to a little venting.   
  
Why didn't Sirius just blurt it out? Well… he was never really given a chance, and in Remus' state, the chance of him believing Sirius readily wasn't that great. He needed to cool down a bit.   
  
I just had a really strange thought. An extension of the WS timeline to CD, only with the new, creepily powerful Harry. *sigh* He'd probably leave his parents the moment Sirius came. But then again, he would have damaged Voldermort far more, or maybe avoided death altogether. Humm… Oh, as to how Harry 'saw' Remus in the previous chapter, that'll be explained later. Harry sort of 'sensed' him, not really saw. His very intitive naturally.   
  
Well... I successfully weaned myself off the new story, it was another time travel fic, but they've been done so much its hard to do one that's truly original. Only now there's this new idea in the back of my mind that's inspired by Ari's story with a slightly different twist and different background. (ack! Ari, look what you did! It's torture... post the next chapter soon, by the way! *grins*) But... writing that could compromise PoM and CD... *sigh* well, maybe only CD. It seems that story's getting the short end of every stick.   
  



	23. of wand points

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
Ack! I was hoping you'd all forget if I'm silent about it, but yes, once WS hits 1000 reviews, the 1000th reviewer can choose whether they want a short story, PoM, or CD post. But those aren't quite ready yet, maybe I should delay posting chapter 24 just to buy myself more time… *schemes*   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter twenty-three - of wand points   
  
  
  
"No, it wasn't him. Please…" Harry whispered, obviously drained as he slumped against Sirius' shoulder. His eyes fought to stay open, and his hand fell slack and he coughed weakly.   
  
"Harry?" Sirius said sharply, steadying the child as he sagged backwards. Harry was limp from exhaustion, so drained that he could barely lift his head. He only moaned softly in response, the sound lost in the folds of Sirius' shirt.   
  
Remus stood stiffly in the middle of the room, Harry's words still echoing in his ears. He watched Sirius carefully, but the convict made no sign of having heard at all. Rather, he was more concerned about Harry, as he picked up a stray coat, wrapping the child's slight form in the clothing for warmth. He seemed almost unaware of Remus' presence, backing towards a stray chair and sitting with his back completely unguarded. Harry stirred feebly, but sleep seemed to be quickly claiming him.   
  
Remus was devastated, bewildered, but oddly relieved at the obvious attachment Harry had to his godfather. He was comforted that the child had found the ability to trust someone so deeply. Sirius really seemed to care; he had been taking care of him, saving him in ways that he had not yet understood. But Remus was still perplexed by Sirius' actions. There was a strange sort of hope that was settling in the back of his mind; it made no sense, but could it…?   
  
Remus watched, numb, as Sirius ran his fingers through Harry's unruly hair in an effort at comfort. He picked up the cooled mug and brought it to the child mouth, slipping the tonic down his parched throat. That seemed to alleviate Harry's coughs, and he drew several shuddering breaths. Sirius rubbed his back soothingly, whispering quiet words of reassurance. Remus took a step back, some of his previous anger fading into confusion and concern.   
  
"Is he alright?" Remus found himself asking despite himself, talking several cautious steps towards the pair.   
  
Sirius nodded distractedly, "Harry's fatigued. I think trying to move like that… it really drained him. He should be okay," the last statement had a desperate edge to it. "We should stop yelling. It's frightening him."   
  
Remus nodded, averting his gaze guiltily. Sirius, a murderer, was taking better care of Harry than him in the few days he had known the child. It was almost sad.   
  
But… could it be possible that Sirius wasn't the traitor? The child had voiced the possibility of Sirius being innocent ever since his arrival, but that could be Sirius' influence. Remus wasn't sure what to believe, but he couldn't accept the idea of Sirius teaching Harry dark magic.   
  
Remus swallowed uneasily; Dumbledore was right, there was no way he could treat this rationally. He should have contacted the headmaster to moment he discovered them. Remus reached into his pocket and drew out a pale colored stone, tapping it lightly with his wand. It was a small message sender and receiver, designed to relay his location with a more urgent undertone. His movements caught Sirius' attention, and the convict watched him with a mixture of defeat, hurt, and disappointment. But there was resignation in his demeanor that sent a wave of guilt crashing over him.   
  
"Are you calling the ministry?" Sirius asked softly.   
  
"No, Dumbledore," Remus was surprised to see relief, and even hope written in Sirius' pale eyes before he looked away.   
  
A strained silence settled over them. Remus fingered the polished stone between his fingers agitatedly, keeping his face neutral.   
  
Sirius shifted the weight in his arms, easing him carefully under the covers. The movement jarred the oversized shirt, and the fabric fell from Harry's thin shoulder, revealing a patch of discolored flesh. Lashes crisscrossed the unnaturally pale skin; it was as if someone had etched purple and red lines all across the six year olds body. A footprint was still livid against his shoulder blade, a mass of black ink was stained against his neck.   
  
"Oh god…" Remus choked on his words, blood draining from his face.   
  
_ What…? How badly had the Dursleys hurt the poor boy? He knew that Harry was hurt, but he never suspected it to be this serious!   
  
_ "What did they… how could they do this to him?" Remus whispered.   
  
At those words, Sirius' glare hardened. "They left him, bleeding to death in that cupboard, just because he stole some food from his cousin."   
  
Remus took a halting step forward, as if wanting to retrieve the child from his friend but unsure at the same time. He dropped his wand to his side, averting his gaze. "I went there the next morning," Remus finally whispered. "There was blood on the sheets, but I never thought…"   
  
"Bruised possibly cracked ribs, fractured wrist, anemia, severe malnutrition," Sirius hissed bitterly, but there was regret in his eyes that veiled the rage. "Three hours later, Harry would have been dead."   
  
Remus couldn't find the words to reply. He touched Harry's shoulder hesitantly, the threat of Sirius forgotten as he traced a reddish contusion that cut across half the child's cheek. The thick palm that struck him left an imprint so deep that the off coloration even spread onto his neck. Harry unconsciously flinched at the gesture, but Remus barely noticed. This was what his carelessness cost the child. This was what he could have prevented.   
  
_ This was all your fault!   
  
_ Remus snapped back into attention, the gravity of his situation returning. But he was completely caught off guard when he found Sirius watching him with an expression akin to concern.   
  
"Remus?" Sirius asked cautiously. "You blanked out for a moment there."   
  
Remus blinked, a bit disoriented by the overlapping memories of present and past. It was almost as they were at Hogwarts again, and he was returning to his classes a day too soon, and both James and Sirius would pester him and watch him like hawks.   
  
Reality returned to him in a wave; Remus stiffened, quickly taking several steps back. "Sirius, why are you doing this?"   
  
Sirius' arm tightening around Harry defensively at those words, almost as if he expected Remus to tear his godson away without a moment's warning. "Remus, there's been a misunderstanding."   
  
"A misunderstanding?" Remus echoed, his weariness making him unusually bitter. "A misunderstanding so grave that you wouldn't have confronted us unless we caught you first?"   
  
Sirius' eyes darkened at his tone, but when he spoke again, his voice carried an edge of desperation. "Would you just listen to me for a moment? You have to know, even if no one else does. I…"   
  
"Black!" the shrill voice cut Sirius' next words short.   
  
Remus spun around, a bit startled to see a flustered and breathless Professor McGonagall instead of Dumbledore, bun loose as if from a run, caught between a cluster of trash bags and empty styrofoam cups. Her wand was held out threateningly, and there was a fury in her countenance that Remus never seen before.   
  
"Get away from the poor child right this instant," Minerva ordered sternly.   
  
Sirius looked stunned, as if Minerva had just slapped him and flung scalding hot coals at his face.   
  
"Move aside!" Minerva urged, raising her voice threateningly. Sirius snapped back into attention when she took a step forward, jerking to his feet so abruptly that his chair clattered against the edge of the table. He backed away from the bed haltingly, surprise and pain etched in his features.   
  
Before he even realized what he was doing, Remus found himself stepping between them defensively.   
  
Minerva didn't seem to notice the message behind his action. She didn't even seem to acknowledge him, her gaze unwavering from Sirius' face. "Portkey to Albus' office and contact the rest, Lupin. Albus wasn't in his office when the alarm was activated, and I came before I could alert them."   
  
"Wait, Professor," Remus stepped back in an effort at restraint, reluctant to leave. He had been bitter against Sirius before, but when faced with the possibility of having his former friend thrown back in prison, he suddenly felt the need to listen to Sirius' side of the story. "I don't think its wise to contact everyone before Dumbledore arrives. There's a risk that Sirius can be seen. Knowing Fudge, he would never give Sirius a chance at a trial."   
  
Minerva glanced at him sharply, lips thinned into a grim line. She opened her mouth as if to utter an enraged retort, but shut it again. She shook her head, oddly sympathetic. "The man deserves Azkaban for what he did. Don't defend him, Lupin. I know you two were good friends."   
  
A soft moan.   
  
There was a soft rustle of blankets. Everyone fell silent as the slight figure beneath the covers turned, aroused by the voices in the room. Remus could feel his back stiffening in apprehension; Harry would be nothing short of horrified with Minerva's treatment of Sirius. He was already close to hysterics before.   
  
Sirius instinctively took a step towards his godson, Minerva forgotten as he turned his attention to the child. But the professor completely misinterpreted the gesture.   
  
In two large strides, Minerva was directly in front of the convict, wand stayed above his heart.   
  
"Don't move!" Minerva's voice was close to a hiss. "If you even touch the child…" The threat was left hanging.   
  
"No, you don't understand," Sirius snapped, equally exasperated. "Harry's going to be frightened half to death when he wakes up. He's not going to understand what's going on."   
  
"It's time someone saved the child from your influence," Minerva muttered. The normally stern, but inherently kind professor was unusually angry, but faced with a former student, the only student in the history of her house to betray light magic, strained her far beyond endurance.   
  
"Saved?" Sirius repeated indignantly. "You don't even understand!"   
  
"Padfoot?" came a soft, timid voice.   
  
Remus paled, as if someone had spread ice in his veins. Sirius froze, blood draining from his face. Impulsively, he took a step towards the drowsy, but bewildered child, emerald eyes fearful as he took in the odd scene beside his bed. But a sharp prod at Sirius' neck halted him midway.   
  
"Hush, child. Everything will be okay," Minerva murmured, sparing a quick glance in Harry direction. But those words passed Harry completely unheard, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on his godfather.   
  
Harry stilled, eyes widening. "Padfoot?" he asked again, a desperate undertone laced in his voice. He grasped the edge of the bed with his undamaged hand, dragging his unresponsive body closer to the pair.   
  
"Harry, just stay still," Sirius said haltingly, his breath logged uncomfortably in his throat with Minerva's wand embedded against his neck. "You're going to hurt yourself if you keep trying to move like that."   
  
"No…" Harry whispered shakily. He struggled to sit despite his bruised and lacerated back, propping himself up with his elbow unsteadily. He turned to Minerva pleadingly, "Please, don't hurt him. He didn't do anything!"   
  
Minerva was stunned into silence, jaw dropping in utter shock.   
  
"Harry, don't. Everything alright, don't worry about me," Sirius choked out, expression twisting into a slight grimace of pain as he watched the fearful child. "Remus, stop him. Don't let him move around like that, he's straining his ribs… they're bruised; they really hurt him."   
  
"Black, what have you done to the child?" Minerva whispered brokenly, question an echo of Remus' own only minutes before.   
  
Sirius bristled with impatience, caught between wand point and his godson. "I didn't do anything to him!! I just didn't want to see him hurt…" Sirius trailed off as Remus approached, extending a cautious hand towards the shivering child. "Harry, just stay still. Everything's going to be okay. Trust Remus, alright? He's going to help you. He's…"   
  
"No!" Harry gasped out, making a frantic grab for his godfather's hand. But his sprained wrist gave out under stress, and he made a small sound of pain. Remus caught Harry before he fell completely from the bed, placing a gentle but firm hand to restrain him. But Harry cringed at the touch, and he futilely tried to move away.   
  
"Harry, calm down!" Remus urged, throwing a few helpless glances Sirius' way as he tried to subdue the frenetic child. But when Harry lashed out, pushing and almost clawing at his arm as he writhed to free himself, Remus wasn't sure how to react.   
  
Harry scrambled towards Sirius again, unusually agile despite his injuries. "Let him go. You don't understand, he didn't do anything! Please…" his sentence broke in a fit of coughs, and Harry collapsed weakly against the tangled sheets.   
  
Sirius' self-control cracked then, and he shoved Minerva's hand carelessly away as he dove for the child. Minerva responded with a sharp warning and retort, thinking to protect an innocent six year old from a murderer. It was pandemonium within seconds, with Sirius fending away his former professor as he tried hard to reach Harry. Harry was wide eyed and trembling, the screams and yells too reminiscent of his uncle's rampages. He was ghastly pale, curled in a defensive ball against the headboard. Remus urged them both to be silent, wanting to help Minerva, but wanting to side with Sirius at the same time. He had seen how attached Harry was to his godfather, saw the parental affection Sirius had to him. He faced the convict with mixed feelings.   
  
"_Stupefy_!" Minerva's voice cut through the confusion like a knife.   
  
A blinding red light filled the room for a brief instant, before Sirius fell limp and slumped heavily to the floor. Minerva dropped her shoulders, inwardly sighing in relief as she straightened her rumpled robes. Remus' throat was too dry to speak, but he stared at the still form of Sirius lying awkwardly on the carpet, feeling a surge of regret and guilt.   
  
It was wrong, this was all wrong.   
  
"Professor, I don't think we should have done that," Remus whispered softly, not meeting Minerva's stare. "I've seen how Sirius treated James' son, and I can assure you, he had no ulterior motives. He cares for Harry very much, that's undeniable. There's a possibility… Sirius could be… innocent."   
  
Minerva drew a sharp breath, turning to Remus disbelievingly with an edge of anger.   
  
"No…" A tremor ran through the soft, childish voice.   
  
Remus stilled, jerking around to the child.   
  
Harry's emerald eyes were large, glazed as if recalling a distant, horrifying memory that shattered his life overnight. He was white as a sheet, so still that he barely seemed to be breathing.   
  
"No!!"   
  
With a frantic lunge, Harry flung himself from the bed, stumbling into a heap on the thinly carpeted floor. Dodging Remus' restraining hand, he half crawled, half dragged himself to the still form.   
  
"Padfoot?" Harry whispered timidly, tugging at Sirius' sleeve. But when he failed to respond, Harry became more disconcerted. He called his name again, prodding him on the shoulder, dangerously close to breaking down completely.   
  
"Harry, Sirius is okay. Padfoot is okay, he's just sleeping," Remus said soothingly. He knelt beside him quickly, concerned at Harry's abrupt subdued countenance. He placed a reassuring hand on the thin shoulder.   
  
Harry didn't flinch. He made no reaction of being aware of his presence at all. The child's bright green eyes were oddly dull, and he dropped his head against Sirius' shoulder as if he was too tired to even sit upright.   
  
"Harry?" Remus said again, more urgently this time.   
  
Harry was unresponsive, his haunted appearance out of place on his young face.   
  
"What happened here?" asked another voice, a calm, commanding voice of a wizened old man.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
For some reason, this chapter feels... humm... you know those pinball machines that take forever to get cranked up? For some reason, the WS plot seems that way. It's been on the little climax hill and never quite hit the top. What do you think? Repetitive? Well... I was trying to build the tension, but it seems... humm... well, I was trying to compensate by posting really fast. Ack...   
  
Don't worry, I'm not that mean to make Harry go through all those injuries again. Ack… having to deal with those injuries plus malnutrition was bad enough for the past twelve chapters. This feels like a regurgitation of the last chapter, but only slightly more cranked up. *sigh* I don't know where my fingers were taking me when it typed it, but what the hell, it took me 6 hours writing it so you better read it!! PMSing today, sorry…   
  
The last chapter was a cliffy? I… I didn't think so when I posted, but everyone else thought so, *hides*. Now this chapter was a ¾ cliffy! So I should be… unharmed right? *wears boots just in case so MercS & Tilly can't hurt me*   
  
*hides* Sorry about that. Minerva is a bit cranked up. Sirius couldn't explain because he wasn't really given an opportunity. He was practically shouted at every time, and he wasn't sure how to start with Remus around. It seems skewed, doesn't it? *sigh* but you could always argue that Sirius wanted to wait until Dumbledore came, and had no chance to explain with Minerva screaming like that. The professor always seemed rather emotional when it came to extreme situations. Plus, she was six or so years younger. Well…   
  
I'm glad you all found the last chapter realistic!! I was really worried that everyone would be furious, but got too attached to the chapter to change anything. *sigh* In other words, too lazy. But I suppose if I left out the stream of consciousness, for example: Remus suddenly felt really mad at Sirius and punched him, and Harry got really upset and attached Remus, that would deserve a flame. But that was basically what happened… *sighs again* Actually, there was this one version where Remus tried to punch Sirius and Harry got in front, except that would probably damage the poor kid far more with Remus' heightened strength, not to mention major guilt trip on both parties. *cackle* So that got thrown out the window…   
  
Hey Kaydee! Very long review. Umm… in PoA, Remus probably believed Sirius a lot quicker because of the Marauder map. He realized that Peter was alive, although he did jump to the conclusion rather quickly, didn't he? Here, Sirius has no proof except for a rather disturbed six year old and his own memory. Well… there's always the truth serum, but that's not something people carry around on a daily basis. As for Remus not mentioning Peter, uhh… that's the my conscious showing through. Oopsie. I don't particularly like Peter, and he got jipped in Remus' to avenge list. *sigh* Ack… Oh, about the time travel fic, it got cut within the first chapter. So… Harry hasn't gone anywhere just yet. The other fic that I'm planning got incorporated into WS' timeline, a sequel of sorts, but… humm… donnuo how its going to work out yet. It's a dimension fic that has a weird twist to it, and right now, my mind seems to be screaming for that rather than PoM or CD. Ack... dangerous waters.   
  
Harry didn't take the light well. Imagine a little kid having a flash back of the green light that killed his parents, only a red one this time. That wasn't the smartest thing to do to a naturally perceptive, deeply scarred, and very traumatized six year old. I agree, Allocin! Harry does seem very adorable when he's younger. It's a pity Rowling never expanded on that, but then again, *sigh* What's taking her so long to get out book 5?!?!   
  
Tarawen, about Harry's POV… humm… its sad, I hadn't really thought about that. The last chapter sort of had to be in Remus' POV since he does some really drastic stuff and his stream of consciousness had to be outlined, but here… humm… a specific person's POV dropped since there were more characters involved. Ack! Harry's POV sort of falls out of WS afterwards. Oh no… *bangs head against the table*   
  
This chapter was looooooong… it didn't seem long, but it's about 2 pages longer than all my other chapters. *sigh*   
  



	24. of convergent understandings

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter twenty-four - of convergent understandings   
  
  
  
Dumbledore digested their brief summary of occurrences with a grim expression, side stepping the stray chair, now lying on its side. He paused when he caught sight of Sirius, lying with his arm twisted awkwardly under him, and Harry, clinging to his godfather's neck as if the world around him was falling apart. A heavily weariness passed over his face for a moment, before he knelt alongside Remus and touched the child lightly on the shoulder.   
  
To Remus' surprise, Harry slowly turned, a flicker of life returning to the childish face.   
  
Dumbledore paused, an expression akin to surprise passing over his features for the briefest of moments as he watched the six year old boy. He seemed to have saw something in Harry that no one else saw, but Remus wasn't sure. Slowly, Dumbledore bent down to meet at eyelevel with him, and Harry stared back unblinkingly, still distant. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, a old man and a young child watching each other with eyes mirroring in intensity as if entrapped in a discourse only the two could hear.   
  
"Why?" Harry asked suddenly, his haunted eyes out of place in his young face. The bright green had dulled into almost a gray, and his voice sounded dazed as he spoke, as if he wasn't completely with reality.   
  
"What do you mean, Harry?" Dumbledore said quietly.   
  
"He didn't kill those people," Harry murmured, lying his head tentatively against his godfather's shoulder again. Sirius was still motionless, and Harry shivered visibly. He looked weary somehow, as if a heavy weight was weighing him down and slowly drowning him. "He's innocent. Why… why did you hurt him?"   
  
Minerva frowned in a mixture of bitter anger and pity. "Child, did Black tell you that?"   
  
"No," Harry tensed when she drew nearer, edging himself in front of Sirius defensively.   
  
"Harry, Sirius isn't hurt," Dumbledore said soothingly. His words brought a flicker back into Harry's emerald eyes, but his expression were still of a lost and haunted boy.   
  
"But he's… he's not responding," Harry choked out, a tremor making his way into his words. The first signs of true distress was showing through on his face, and his shoulders shook as if holding back an outbreak. "He never… he…"   
  
"He's only resting," Dumbledore said firmly in a tone that exude comfort and drew trust. Harry chewed his lip nervously, hand tightening around his godfather's sleeve. "Tell me, child, how did you know Sirius was innocent if he never told you?"   
  
Harry stared him, gaze unwavering from the wizened wizard's face. "It was… in a dream."   
  
Minerva made a sharp intake of breath. Remus paled, recalling the previous insight Harry had when he wandered the room under an invisibility cloak. He turned to Dumbledore questioningly, but the headmaster's expression was still deceptively calm.   
  
"What happened in the dream?" Dumbledore carefully asked.   
  
"There was a man on a street. He was scared," Harry said slowly, detached and distant as if recalling an abstract memory. "Padfoot hated him, he wanted to kill him. I think the man's name was… Wormtail… or Peter. I can't remember."   
  
"Sirius was angry and Peter was afraid?" Minerva said with some amount of disbelief. "Are you sure it wasn't the other way around?"   
  
"Padfoot was angry. He… he said something about betraying them to…" Harry furrowed his brow in thought. "to… Voldermort."   
  
"He… said that?" Remus choked out, grasping the edge of the bed to steady his balance.   
  
"Wormtail was afraid… he didn't want to die. He had a knife, screamed into the street, and everything… every thing turned white," Harry visibly shuddered, hand convulsively grasping onto the folds of Sirius' shirt.   
  
There was silence.   
  
Slowly, Dumbledore drew his wand from his cloak. Harry's head snapped up in an instant, and he dragged his wasted body over his godfather as if trying to shield him.   
  
"No!" Harry buried his face in Sirius' shoulder, hugging his neck tightly. "Don't hurt him anymore. He didn't kill anyone, please…"   
  
Dumbledore lowered his gaze, expression clouding with a heavy sadness and sympathy. "I'm just going to wake him, Harry," he said gently.   
  
Harry tensed, but it was impossible to distrust Dumbledore. Slowly, hesitantly, he relinquished his death grip on his godfather, drawing a sharp breath when he attempted to sit. Desperation had dulled the pain before, but as the fear filtered away, all the shearing heat in his back returned in a cascade. His arm trembled violently under pressure. Harry swayed dangerously to one side before his strength gave out altogether, and he collapsed weakly against Sirius again.   
  
Remus was on his knees beside the child in an instant, gingerly lifting him. Harry was too drained to struggle, but he made a small sound of protest. Even through his half conscious haze, he never relinquished his clasp on Sirius' shirt. Remus eased him into a sitting position; Harry sagged like a boneless heap against his shoulder.   
  
Dumbledore watched the two knowingly, a small but sad smile crossing his face. He turned his attention back to the stunned figure, and at a softly whispered counter curse, Sirius stirred.   
  
It took a moment for him to reorient himself; no one spoke. As Sirius fought the stiffness in his limbs and the graininess in his eyes, the blurred form of the headmaster came sharply into focus. He blinked, surprised and relieved at the same time.   
  
"Dumbledore," Sirius croaked, his throat dry and raw from the aftereffects of the stunning curse. Another thought drifted into his mind, and he sat up with a jerk. "Harry?"   
  
"With Remus. He's resting," Dumbledore's expression lightened somewhat at Sirius' reaction.   
  
Sirius scrambled to his feet, the headmaster momentarily forgotten as he half stumbled over the fallen chair tangled bed sheets. He fell on his knees beside Remus, eyes unwavering from the still form lying limply against him. The room was silent. Lightly, Sirius brushed his fingers over the child's forehead, and Harry blinked up at him groggily.   
  
"Harry?" Sirius whispered, concerned at the clamminess of his skin. He reached forward as if to retrieve the child, but thought better of it last minute.   
  
"He's exhausted," Remus explained softly at Sirius' worried expression. "The injuries are really wearing him down. Harry needs to go to the infirmary."   
  
Harry made a soft sound in the back of his throat, a flicker of recognition passing through his eyes. He turned towards him feebly, reaching for Sirius' hand with his undamaged arm. In a moment, Sirius had him enveloped in a loose embrace, tucking the child's head under his chin and whispering quiet words of comfort.   
  
Still, no one said a word of protest.   
  
  
  
  
  
A light tap on his shoulder brought Sirius back into reality.   
  
Dumbledore stood behind him, expression blank to the point of stoicness. "Sirius, I believe you all owe us an explanation."   
  
Sirius stilled, but instead of fear, a mixture of hope and apprehension flooded his pale eyes. He chewed his lip, downcast and if purposely avoiding their gazes as he gently eased Harry back in Remus' arms. The six year old was unresponsive, exhausted past the point of consciousness. When Sirius lifted his head again, there was a stubborn explanation in his demeanor. "I didn't betray James and Lily. I didn't kill those muggles. And I would never hurt Harry in any way," Sirius said firmly. He glanced at Remus searchingly, as if mutely pleading for him to understand. "I didn't kill Pettigrew, although I wish I had."   
  
"Sirius, tell us the details of the events leading up to Halloween of 1981," Dumbledore urged, eyes never drifting from Sirius' face.   
  
Sirius drew a deep, calming breath, silent willing himself to suppress the buried anger. He turned his attention to the sleeping child, resting against Remus' shoulder, oblivious to the events around him. "The day before Halloween, I asked James… to switch to Pettigrew, just the night before. I thought it was the perfect ruse. Voldermort would naturally assume that I was the secret keeper, and if I was ever captured and placed under the imperious, I would give their position away immediately. He never suspect someone as weak, unsuspecting as Wormtail, but…"   
  
Remus clenched and unclenched his fingers around his wand, forcibly keeping them steady.   
  
"He was the spy. When I realized, I tried to track him down," Sirius' voice was almost a low growl; he frowned darkly, "I located him in the muggle street the next day, and cornered him. I said some things to him. Then he caught me off guard, and screamed out to the entire street that I was the traitor. He blew up the street with the wand behind his back, transformed into a rat, and ran into the gutter."   
  
Dumbledore was silent, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the convict standing awkwardly between the two beds. His countenance was deceptively neutral, but his eyes lit with a triumphant gleam. But Sirius couldn't bring himself to look at his friend at all.   
  
"I suppose that's how I managed to stay sane in Azkaban," Sirius added, mostly to himself. "I knew I wasn't guilty, and that wasn't a happy thought. The dementors couldn't take it away from me."   
  
"But his finger?" Minerva asked weakly.   
  
"He cut it off himself, didn't he?" Remus spoke up suddenly.   
  
Sirius glanced at Remus, visibly surprised. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out. Jerkily, he nodded.   
  
"But Harry's picture," Remus asked quietly. "Why did you rip it?"   
  
Sirius scowled at the memory. "That poor excuse of a muggle was in it."   
  
The room was subdued in a thick hush after that as everyone slowly absorbed the news. Minerva was stiff, her normally stern façade a mask of confusion and disbelief. Dumbledore' eyes darkened in defeat, but there was a strange reprieve in his demeanor. He examined Sirius intently for a moment with a restrained hopefulness. But he was well acquainted with his former pupil's character, and he understood even without proof or witnesses.   
  
Sirius must have noticed and misinterpreted the dark shadows in his eyes, because he spoke hastily again. "I'll take the truth serum."   
  
Dumbledore slowly shook his head. "No, that's unnecessary, Sirius. I believe that you are telling the truth." He straightened as if having been relieved of a horrible burden. "Minerva, could you please call back the search team and tell them that Harry has been found unharmed; give them no further details. Remus, please take Harry to the infirmary by portkey. Sirius, use James' invisibility cloak. You can take refuge at Hogwarts in the guestroom behind my office," The gleam was back in his blue eyes, and it was as if the two weeks of tense worry had never occurred.   
  
Remus lingered in his position at the edge of the bed, looking as if he wanted to speak, but afraid at the same time. Feeling Sirius' eyes on him, he met his gaze slowly. A small smile, barely discernable, stretched over Remus' face, but it lit his countenance that gave him the appearance of that distant teenager. He inclined his head with an apologetic gesture, and shifting Harry's weight more comfortably in his arms, disappeared with a soft pop.   
  
An answering smile, however small, appeared on Sirius' face. He sighed inwardly in relief, slouching against the edge of the table wearily. He turned when Dumbledore stopped beside him, silently questioning.   
  
For a brief moment, the headmaster's mood seemed overshadowed by sadness as he took in the hardships carved in his former student's face. It was gone in a moment, and Dumbledore smiled warmly. "Sirius, you have a very remarkable godson."   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
Well, things are finally settled. There was this version with a very, very traumatized Harry but I took it out. It sort of delayed everything, and in a way, became too repetitive. That also took away the comparison between Harry and Dumbledore, which plays an important role in the sequel (yes! There will be one, and with no cost to CD (I hope) or PoM. I'm not dropping any clues on what it will be about *grins* Thanks, Ari, for the inspiration!). Harry was able to instinctively trust Dumbledore, just as he was about to Sirius and for Remus (slightly, the werewolf part got between it though). I always thought that Dumbledore was very intuitive, like Harry in WS, because he never trusted Tom Riddle. Harry is quite similar to Dumbledore, his age and innocence only magnifies. But… humm… maybe I'll end up posting a draft with all these alternative versions of various chapters. It'll be hundreds of pages long *sigh*   
  
There was a second scene, but it really didn't belong. It's a short chapter, but the previous 3 chapters were unusually long, so… Somehow, as I was reediting WS, it became… 33 chapters! It was 32... Then 30... And now, 33... *sigh* what's going on?   
  
Parts of this was strange, since it was told through a more general POV. But… urg…. What do you think? They jumped to the realization a little too quickly, but Sirius had no idea that Harry told them all about his dream. But... humm...   
  
Wow, kaydee, you're reviews are getting longer and longer! Not that I'm complaining, they're really interesting to read. humm... the Hp movie, crud this is going to be a page long rant. But I'll keep it short. humm... Harry seemed a bit tall in the movie, doesn't he? He was one of the better actors though, but he didn't have that many lines. And he had blue eyes!! BLUE!! ACCK! I'm never going to get over that... but you're right, the first time you saw the hp movie, its good, the second, it's so so, then it goes down from there. The girl who played Hermione looked good for the part though, she was a bit enthusastic at times, but she looks like a Hermione. Ron had really big bags under his eyes... but other than that, he's okay. Snape? Voice for Scar? humm... he does sound like him, doesn't he? He looked a bit chubby for Snape though, although... humm... the hair stylists got a little too giddly when they used the black dye. And James... oh god... I'm going to cry. If Sirius and/or Remus looks as bad as he, then I think we should all gang up on the casting people and lynch them. That guy was bald!!! *wails* humm... does the Singular Wireless guy remind you of James in some twisted, far fetched way? His voice is way too monotonous though, and he's a bit old for the part, but make up can do a lot. Still... James... bald... 40 ish... *sigh* Oops, I went off on a tangent... I agree, Dumbledore seemed a bit calm, and he didn't play as large a role, but he looked like a Dumbledore. He needs to work on smiling a bit more though...   
  
Ack, Merc's sick? I hope you get better soon!   
  
humm... now that you mention it Ari, Harry does act a bit like that kid from the Sixth Sense. *sigh* you know, I never really planned a chapter with Dursley torture. *sigh* Its sad, really... but they're really hateful aren't they?   
  
Don't worry Nuts! You're not alone in the 'can't spell for life' category. *sigh* oh well, who needs to spell with the spell checker around?   
  
Ack... just finished the SATs and dieeeeeeeeeeed!! *wails* I'm going to have to go to a community college *sob* anyway, moving on... Thank you Wishful Thinker! My birthday was about... humm... I can't do math, and I just took the math II C too! Uhh... about... 16 days ago. I think... I should probably change my info now   
  
Thank you for all those great reviews!! I'm glad you found it believable and unrepetitive. Humm… seems like everyone hates Minerva now. But at least it wasn't Snape. Harry would snap rib if it was…   
  



	25. of reconciliation

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter twenty-five - of reconciliation   
  
  
  
Sirius sat uneasily on the thick carpet, leaning against the four poster as he stared up at the vermilion drapery. After over five years of sleeping on boards, a week of using leaves and grass for insulation, and another of sleeping in chairs, he suddenly found a bed uncomfortable. No, it was the large and richly room that made him uncomfortable. It felt so much like a prison, simply redecorated.   
  
Sirius rubbed his eyes harshly, willing them to stay open. He wasn't at ease without the child in sight. He hadn't seen Harry since Remus portkeyed away with him four hours ago, and since then, not one person had stepped into his secluded room. The image of Harry lying alone in the infirmary was plaguing him past the point of endurance; the shy little boy must be frightened half to death, with Madam Pomfrey fussing over him. Sirius chewed his lip worriedly, increasingly anxious. He didn't have the invisibility cloak; that was folded neatly on Dumbledore's desk. He had finally grown so desperate that he attempted prying open the door, subtly be damned, but the seal that kept intruders out seemed to have locked him in. He had tried everything since, pounding on the walls for hidden passages, scrounging the room for floo powder, then finally prying at the picture frame.   
  
He was starting to feel claustrophobic.   
  
He was beginning to worry that the entire thing was a trap to turn him over to the ministry, but logic spoke against that. Remus believed him. Dumbledore and McGonagall did as well. Sirius had a vague idea why they were trying so hard to keep his position a secret, but he was still indignant.   
  
The ministry wouldn't readily accept his innocence, especially with only Sirius' story as proof. The bits and pieces he picked from the discarded notes and papers left lying on the table was enough so show just how incompetent the Minister of Magic was. Fudge was a selfish fool would do anything to salvage his reputation, including flinging him back into prison or executing him with the dementor's kiss, as long as they kept his escape a secret. The chance of him openly pardoning him was equivalent to Sirius miraculously running across Pettigrew. But Sirius didn't care about freedom as long as he could have his godson back. Sirius inwardly sighed, rubbing his eyes. The sun had risen hours ago, and he still hadn't slept. He couldn't remember a time he actually slept through the night for the past week. His body was screaming for rest, but he fought it. If Remus or Dumbledore came to bring news on Harry, he had to be awake to hear it.   
  
The door cracked open with a soft creak.   
  
Sirius scrambled to his feet eagerly, ears attuned to any noise.   
  
"Sirius?" his name was spoken in a cautious whisper.   
  
The heavy picture frame opened further, falling into the room with a shaft of morning sunlight. A lanky form peeked out from behind it, grey eyes scanning the room before falling at the dark corner. The man paused, a brief look of uncertainty passing over his gaunt face.   
  
"Remus," Sirius greeted slowly.   
  
And for several minutes, the two friends just stared at each other.   
  
Slowly, Remus stepped into the red and gold room, the door fusing into the wall behind him. Sirius stilled nervously. He was never uneasy before, but that was always in the company of another. Meeting his friend of nine years, with five years of misunderstandings in between, he was unexpectedly agitated.   
  
He hadn't noticed how much Remus had changed since the past five years. The robes he wore were patched and frayed; it must have been hard for him to find employment. His face was worn as if he hadn't slept well for weeks. But knowing the situation, that was probably the truth. The glossy brown hair he had during school had thinned out, and looking ready to grey. But his eyes seemed younger than before.   
  
Sirius wasn't sure how to put his thoughts into words. He knew he needed to apologize for the mistake he made and for the misjudgment he made that cost him for than anything he could imagine. Tell him how relieved he was when Remus believed him, how happy. But seeing the same guilt mirror in his friend's grey eyes made the words clog in his throat.   
  
  
  
  
  
Oddly, it was Remus who spoke first. He made his way to a stray chair, but hesitated to sit, resting his hands over the surface lightly.   
  
"Harry gave McGonagall quite a shock after she stunned you," Remus murmured, trying to keep his tone light. It was a simple statement that shattered some of the tension between them.   
  
That caught Sirius' attention immediately. "He did? What did he do?"   
  
"He… he didn't take it very well. He was very upset, very worried," Remus said awkwardly, beginning to regret bringing up the topic. He was just starting to understand the depth of their bond, ever since he saw the attachment Harry had to his godfather. Sirius cared for the six year old far more than himself, but it was guilt that tied him. If he realized the extent that Harry went to keep the only family he knew safe, Sirius would probably drown himself in another wave of guilt.   
  
Sirius seemed to understand some of his unspoken words, however. He averted his gaze, a shadow of regret and sadness passing over his face. "Harry must have been terrified."   
  
"Harry's alright," Remus said quickly, forcing a small smile for reassurance. "He's resting in the infirmary right now."   
  
"You shouldn't leave him alone. If he wakes up, he'll be really confused and frightened," Sirius' words came in a rush, and he stood as if he was preparing to barge into the infirmary.   
  
Sirius still hadn't changed despite the years with dementors. Remus shook his head slightly, grinning in amusement. "Harry's been given the sleeping potion, Madam Pomfrey thinks he's probably too exhausted to wake up within the next eight hours. She's rather territorial, wouldn't let me stay with him for more than half an hour."   
  
But Sirius missed the lighthearted words altogether. "How is Harry? Is he going to be okay?" Sirius asked worriedly.   
  
"Harry's fine. Madam Pomfrey healed most of the damage, but the blood loss and bruises would have to heal by themselves." Remus' expression darkened as he recalled the memory. "The Dursleys… they went too far."   
  
Sirius swallowed an enraged snarl at the mention of Harry's relatives. Scores of murderous passed his mind, but he could find no coherent words to express it.   
  
"Harry's very fond of you," Remus said suddenly, eager to change the subject. "I've only seen him for a few days before the… incident and he was always very silent, very shy."   
  
"He is. He used to be so afraid of me," Sirius softly murmured, dropping heavily onto the edge of the bed. "He used to flinch every time I came near, wouldn't speak, wouldn't eat."   
  
"That seems so hard to believe," Remus whispered, thoughtfully. He watched his friend sympathetically when Sirius fell silent again. "Harry really trusts you. You did a good job taking care of him, Sirius. Even Madam Pomfrey admitted it."   
  
Sirius only managed a shaky smile, making no attempt to reply. Without Harry to anchor them, both lost in their own thoughts of the past. After five years of separation, it was as if a thick wall was built between them, and they lost the closely knit understanding of their friendship. To tear it away was difficult; they had changed so much.   
  
"Thank you for believing me," Sirius slowly said. It was rather uncharacteristic for him to be so formal, but it would have been uncharacteristic for him to be ambiguous.   
  
Remus tensed at the abrupt change of topic, his gray eyes darkening and his lips thinning into a line.   
  
"I should have known it wasn't you," Remus whispered, leaning against the back of the chair wearily. "I'm sorry I believed everyone else."   
  
Sirius frowned bitterly. "I shouldn't have suspected you in the first place. Moony, did you know I thought you were the spy?"   
  
"The thought crossed my mind last night. But it doesn't matter anymore," Remus waved it off lightly, tone determinedly resolute. "We both made mistakes. Lets just be relieved that they were corrected."   
  
  
  
  
  
Harry was very uneasy when he struggled through the thick haze of sleep. The blankets, however warm and thick they were, carried to sense of comfort and reassurance. It was as if he was back in the cupboard, only with sheets this time. Days ago, he would have shuddered if anyone touched him. But now, Harry found himself terrified at the prospect of being alone.   
  
He blined, a bit bewildered by the unfamilar, whitewashed wall staring back at him. The ceiling was unfamiliar from the low tan of the hotel room, far larger and far more intimidating. The room was deafeningly quiet, so quiet that Harry was sure he could hear the blood pounding in his ears.   
  
That was when he realized something was different.   
  
Harry sat up, scarcely aware of the bleached sheets that covered him, and the cotton shirt that hung on him like a blanket. There was no ranking flash of pain through his ribs; no throb in his wrist. It didn't even hurt breathing. Confused, Harry pulled back his sleeve. The splotches of blue and purple were still imprinted in his skin, but it stung only mildly.   
  
_What...?_   
  
The memory of the past day dropped like stones in his mind. Harry drew a sharp breath, tensing fearfully. The last image that lingered in his mind was the old man asking questions about his dream, the fear of the wolf person taking him away. Remus was in the room, under a silvery thing that faded and reappeared like a flimsy half ghost. He called a thin lady that reminded him disturbingly of Aunt Petunia, and everything slid into murkiness from there. Harry shuddered as the loud shrieks and accusations replayed themselves in his mind.   
  
Sirius was gone, Padfoot was gone! He was the only person who ever sat at his bedside patiently, and treated him with a fatherly affection. He was the only person never yelled at him, screamed at him, or hit him. And now he was gone!   
  
He hadn't realized how attached he became to his godfather until Sirius was gone. It was strange without the blurry shadow of the man at his bedside. If was as if the warm comfort that reassured him for the past two weeks was suddenly gone, and Harry was lost. His godfather was the only person he was at ease around. And they took him away! He was innocent, he didn't do anything. Harry's hand trembled, a dampness stinging his eyes. It was unfair, Sirius never deserved it…   
  
He lingered on the bed listlessly, holding his breath to choke back the prickling in his throat. Years of neglect had taught him to be silent, and without his godfather to block them, thvose fears drowned him in waves. He clenched the blankets so tightly that his hands shook, drawing his knees against his chest defensively. After some minutes of deafening silence, shakily sat up.   
  
He was going to find Sirius even if it took him hours.   
  
Harry crawled off the bed clumsily, too short to reach the floor without a jump. His legs shook violently under the weight, but it was the first time the week since he could stand without aid. Using the wall was a guide, he slowly made his way to the door.   
  
By the time Harry reached passed the heavy oak frame, he was coughing and gasping for air. His legs were shaking so violently that he had to lean against the door knob to keep from falling, and the room swayed in his vision. Taking a deep breath, Harry forced himself past the door, stumbling into a medieval hall that stretched as far as the eye could see.   
  
Harry sank against the stone wall at the impossible impediment.   
  
Harry slumped to the floor, gripping his bruised leg with a grimace. Although the cast was removed and the bone healed, it still stung bitingly. Harry drew several calming breaths, wiping at the sweat that trickled down his face. The thought of giving up never crossed the child's mind. Gritting his teeth, Harry dragged himself to his feet.   
  
Harry staggered through the hall, using the wall as leverage. Once in a while, he had to latch onto a protruding rock to keep from stumbling, but soon his hands startled to tremble from the exertion. His legs felt like water beneath his weight; he fell so many times he had lost count. He had no idea where Dumbledore's office was, but his legs seemed to know where to go. Harry followed the instinct; it never failed him before.   
  
But when he sank against a picture frame to steady the undulating floor, an icy hand gripped his heart.   
  
_ A plump, white rat curled on a thickly cushioned chair, sleeping in front of a roaring fire. Its whiskers twitched slightly in irritation every once in a while, turning so that it laid on his back, his tiny paws poking skyward. Its front, right paw was toed with four joints; that seemed to scream for attention.   
  
_ Harry froze.   
  
The rat was familiar somehow, just like Padfoot and Moony. But at the same time, it was different. There wasn't that calm, trusting quality about it; rather, just seeing it made Harry's hair prickle and skin crawl. Harry wasn't sure whether to trust of fear it. Instincts told him to leave it, but the rat didn't seem harmful.   
  
He apprehensively turned his gaze to the picture frame, twice as tall as himself. The picture had a distinct outline of a person, but it was empty like someone had carved him out. Whoever used to occupy it was a wide lady in a dress. Harry brushed his fingers over the smooth surface, and the entire frame swung open.   
  
Harry stared at the back of a red velvet chair, sitting innocently in front of the roaring fireplace.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
This chapter was writting in a bit of a rush, sorry!! Remus and Sirius are still a bit formal around each other, but that's to be expected after all that's occurred. Their conversation seems... *sigh* what do you think?   
  
*cackle* I'm not letting WS fall past the climax just yet Tarawen (I got your email, ummm... about the psychatrist... lessee... I donnuo! It's going to be really scary when I post the last chapter!), Bored Beyond Belief (wow... love the pen name), Teigra (nope! WS is addictive to write... *sigh*), Chrysta (how's dinner?), Kit Cloudkicker (humm... now that you mention it, I didn't include Poppy much, but she should have been in it. Ack... *goes back to rewrite stuff*)!   
  
Wow... kaydee... you are very enthusasitic! humm... I'm amazed you like CD, I always that that fic was... I'll refrain from bashing, but that was my hit and miss first HP fic. Well, actually third, but the first two didn't count since they were only 1 page long things that never made it to ffNET. Anyway, Dumbledore does seem manupulative, doesn't he? But he's the type who'd play you like a pawn and you'd still respect him. And why the hell did he name his phoenix Fawkes?! Guy Fawkes was the traitor who attempted to blow up the Parliament building, he's considered a derogatory and disgraceful person. I wonder if that's any kind of foreshadowing on Rowling's part. Perhaps Dumbledore's the big bad evil badguy?   
  
Oooooo... cruuuuuuud... I just realized I've been spelling Voldemort's name wrong for the past three months. Thanks for bringing it to my attention WeasleyTwinsLover1112, Nicky!   
  
Now that you mention it, Nicky, you're right. Dumbledore's relationship with Harry was really downplayed in the movie. He also seemed a bit stiff somehow. Minerva was played really well though, she deserved a plus.   
  
Ack! Allocin, you're computer's disappearing?!?! How can you live? ACCCCCCCCK!! I will burn incense for you...   
  
Gaby, doesn't Sirius seem to be the type of those overprotective parents that tries to keep his kid from growing up? He's going to have a really hard time letting Harry go   
  
Lindsay, you're right, James wasn't bald, but he had the impending baldness with the shiny forehead... Maybe they wanted to make him seem older so they wouldn't be promoting underage marriages. Or well... older aged marriages.   
  
Thanks for recommending it to a friend Rowena! Ack, I hope you didn't get in trouble, Rainbow. Don't die just yet!   
  
Puddles & Lnyx, what Dumbledore said about Harry plays a part in the sequel. And the comparison between them plays apart too. Ack... I'm so tempted to drop clues! It's been a sort of craze of the late, I haven't been working on CD or PoM. *sigh* Well, it does not take place during Harry's first year actually, but about nine months prior, in the winter time. And it is dark, very very dark, even worse than CD. Which is bad since Harry's only ten years old, but... *sigh*   
  
Thanks for all those great reviews!! Suppose to be reading something for summer school, but... *groan*   
  



	26. of reacquaintance on more levels than on...

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
I'm an idiot, I posted the wrong draft, again!! This is the second time too, but that was with PoM. There aren't that many changes, just bits and pieces. Sorry.   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter twenty-six - of re-acquaintance yet again   
  
  
  
Sirius found a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. Even though appearances had changed, his friend's blind optimism would never go away. "Always looking at the bright side of things, Moony. You never change, do you?"   
  
Remus opened his mouth as if wanting to speak, but instead covered it with a grin. The conversation between the two was still sparse, but after five years of misunderstandings, it was expected. Remus' smile it faltered quickly.   
  
"I made mistakes because of it though," Remus said finally. "I always suspected the Dursleys, but I didn't want to jump to conclusions. Look what happened."   
  
"We both made mistakes," Sirius repeated firmly, an echo of his friend's earlier words to reiterate his point.   
  
Remus shook his head. "Too many…" he murmured with a sigh. He leaned against the chair, quietly thoughtful, but gradually, a teasing glint made its way into his eyes. "I'm surprised the Dursleys were intact when I came the next morning. Knowing your temper, you probably would have set fire to the house or something similar."   
  
"I wanted to. I really wanted to skin that piece of meat, but Harry was more important then…" Sirius trailed off, growing distant again.   
  
During their conversation, Remus couldn't help but notice Sirius' disjointed thoughts and frequent lapses into silence. Azkaban must have affected him more than previously thought. It was subtle, but five years with dementors would torment anyone, even an innocent man. It must have been hell for someone like Sirius, who already begun to place some amount of blame on himself for his best friends' deaths. He seemed trapped under an unbearable load of guilt that he left himself sink into, that no amount of redemption would ever wash away. Remus averted his gaze, flinching inwardly but trying hard to keep the sadness from seeping into his face.   
  
"You didn't do anything to them, did you?" Sirius suddenly asked, eyeing Remus skeptically.   
  
Remus suddenly flushed. He cleared his throat nervously, "Not much…"   
  
"Not much?" Sirius echoed. He leaned forward with a suspicious stare.   
  
"I just… he said some things that made me angry," Remus admitted reluctantly. "I didn't mean to actually break his jaw though."   
  
Sirius gaped, staggering back shock. It took a good half minute for him to recover, still visibly stunned.   
  
"Moony, you've acquired quite a temper," Sirius said, looking quite pleased. "You punched two people in a week, and I was the one accused of murder?"   
  
It was a wild attempt at turning a touchy subject into something humorous, but Remus sobered.   
  
"I'm sorry. I really shouldn't have hit you. I…"   
  
Sirius waved it away indifferently. "If you could break that fat lard's jaw bone, I'm sure you would have been able to give me something more than a bruise. You were holding back."   
  
Remus sighed, leaning against the armrest. "I don't know what I was thinking then…" he ran a hand through his hair; it was obvious he hadn't slept at all the night before.   
  
"So what's going to happen now?" Sirius asked, trying to keep his tone nonchalant.   
  
Remus' expression darkened even more. "The minister isn't… completely competent. He covered up your escape and nearly had a heart attack when Harry disappeared. We're afraid that he caught wind of Harry being found, and is hoping to use that as a stepping stone. He's going to frighten the child half to death, or get him ripped to pieces by reporters. If he finds that you're here as well, then…"   
  
Although those words were spoken bitterly, Sirius' mouth twitched in an odd grin, "Maybe I should kidnap Harry again."   
  
"Don't even consider it, Sirius," Remus muttered, smiling nonetheless. "Harry's condition isn't fit for excessive traveling. But he'll be moved to a secluded location before Fudge comes. We need to gain some support within the ministry in the meantime."   
  
"When did life ever become so complicated?" Sirius grumbled, mostly to himself.   
  
"Since we aged," Remus said. He averted his gaze to the floor, sighing inaudibly in thought. Abruptly, he smiled. "Padfoot, what did happen at Mrs. Figg's that day?"   
  
At the change of topic, it took a while for Sirius to realize what he meant. He found an answering smile tugging at his lips, albeit sheepish.   
  
"Oh, that," Sirius mumbled. "Harry tried to give Padfoot a bath."   
  
Remus mockingly glared. "Tried? The garden was completely maimed. Harry was dead tired afterwards."   
  
"Harry's ticklish," Sirius said simply. "And the shampoo smelled like flowers."   
  
Remus despairingly shook his head. "I won't even ask."   
  
  
  
  
  
Sirius sighed, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted. He still had one true friend left. Although he knew they both restrained their subjects to only more fortunate memories of the past, maneuvering around the subject of Sirius' predicament, it was still a relief.   
  
Sirius was too distracted to hear the portrait slide open a second time. But when loud, raspy breathing met his ears, he stilled. Sirius' position on the bed gave him a full view of the room, and he jumped the moment he saw the frame slide shut again.   
  
The figure of a child was leaning heavily against the wall. Clouded emerald eyes blinked back at him from the shadows, swaying dangerously in his precarious position. In an instant, Sirius was kneeling beside him, steadying the six year old when he threatened to collapse. But Harry all but sagged against him like a boneless heap, half falling, half throwing himself against his godfather. His breath came in erratic gasps, and his entire body shook from stress and weariness. Sirius was alarmed by the cold sweat that seemed to have soaked through Harry's shirt, making him shiver from the chill. Instinctively, he slipped off the cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around the shivering child.   
  
"Harry?" Sirius whispered incredulously. He brushed some thick strands of hair, plastered to the child's forehead, surprised.   
  
Harry was suppose to be in the infirmary, sleeping. From what he heard from Remus, the sleeping potions that the child was drugged with should have kept him asleep until tonight. Madam Pomfrey, despite Dumbledore's request to move him to Sirius' guestroom, wanted to keep Harry for the day for observation in case his condition worsened. Harry's recent injuries were only partially healed, and the nurse didn't want to risk it being aggravated. Having the child suddenly burst into his room gave Sirius some amount of shock and confusion.   
  
Harry lifted his head with obvious effort, giving Sirius an ecstatic smile before falling against him again. He seemed to be too tired to speak, and his limbs hung lifelessly when Sirius lifted him. He tugged the sheet lose and fit it snugly around the small form. Harry hung in a sort of exhausted unconsciousness as Sirius leaned him in the divan and knelt beside him. The child made no response when Sirius tapped him lightly on the arm.   
  
"Harry?" Sirius asked gently.   
  
Harry uttered a soft moan, shifting feebly. He seemed too wasted to even turn his head.   
  
Sirius chewed his lip worriedly, rubbing the thin arms to warm the shivering boy. "Harry, how did you get here?"   
  
"Walked," Harry murmured softly. His words were slurred and thick in his throat.   
  
"What?" Sirius sharply asked. Despite the mended bones, Harry's bruised frame still wasn't able to sustain the strain of walking. He held the child at arm's length, examining him worriedly. "How? You weren't suppose to be moving!"   
  
Harry slowly looked up, eyes glazed with weariness. "You're angry?" he asked apprehensively, tensing reflexively but too drained to move much more than his head.   
  
Sirius sighed, running his fingers through Harry's hair soothingly. It was impossible to be exasperated against someone so timid, naïve, and innocent no matter how ridiculous his actions were.   
  
"No," Sirius murmured, tilting his head to one side to peer him. Harry's bangs were plastered to his forehead with perspiration, appearance so washed out that he seemed ghastly. Sirius dabbed at the child's face with his sleeve, concerned. "I'm just surprised, that's all. How? Weren't you tired?"   
  
Harry nodded jerkily, dropping his head on the armrest. Sirius moved to sit beside him on the divan, easing him from the awkward position and letting the child rest his head on his shoulder. Harry walked from the infirmary? That must have been nearly impossible with the recently healed injuries; it must have cost him over an hour of unbearable pain. Sirius chewed his lip guiltily; the child must have been so terrified and confused when he woke up alone. He should have fought against harder Madam Pomfrey.   
  
"How did you find your way?" Sirius asked quietly. "Hogwarts is huge. How did you manage?"   
  
Harry shifted, glancing Sirius groggily with a half open eye, the other still hidden against the shirt. "Don't know," he admitted wearily, dropping his head as the endeavor of keeping it upright became too tiring.   
  
"But you need a password to cross the door," Sirius said, perplexed. "How did you pass the gargoyle?"   
  
Harry shrugged slightly, "It moved by itself."   
  
Sirius' hand tensed convulsively around the child, and he bent to examine his face. Harry was so drained that he dropped his head against Sirius' arm, entire body slackening flaccidly.   
  
How could the statue move by itself? Dumbledore guarded his office with countless protection charms, it would be impossible for Voldermort to even bypass it without triggering the wards. Unless the headmaster preset the gargoyle to recognize the boy, it would be impossible.   
  
Sirius frowned slightly as he watched him. He should probably call Dumbledore and ask, or at least inform him that Harry escaped from the infirmary. But that would mean they'd take the child away again, and he was reluctant. He would wait a bit, let Harry rest, and then wait until Remus returned before he told them what happened.   
  
Harry shifted feebly, grip loosening on his sleeve, and sliding away to leave pale red stains on his shirt.   
  
"Oh god, Harry, your…" Sirius broke off abruptly when he gently lifted the child's small hands. Harry's palm was laced with countless shallow scratches, raw and bleeding. He pressed an edge of the blanket against it lightly; the child didn't even flinch. "What were you doing? What did you think you were doing?" he said haltingly, feeling his stomach clinch.   
  
Harry abruptly tensed; Sirius could feel his arm stiffen uncomfortably and a tremor run through his slight frame.   
  
"I thought you left… those people said you were guilty," Harry whispered, sounding close to tears at the extent his voice shook and broke. "I thought they took you away."   
  
That statement drove all the previous questions and confusions of Harry's appearance away. Sirius gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, wary of the numerous scrapes and gashes. He couldn't imagine the kind of blow Harry had suffered, when two people seemingly appeared through thin air and all turned their wands on him. He knew how sensitive the child was to any raised voice, especially during his agonizingly slow recovery. Harry must have been petrified.   
  
"Don't worry. Everything's fine now," Sirius said as reassuringly as he could. "They know I'm innocent, and they know what happened. They're going to try to work everything out."   
  
"That lady tried to hurt you!" Harry choked out in frustration, huddling against the divan in a shivering ball. He buried his head against his knees in an action that was aimed to hide his face.   
  
Harry seemed terrified at the memory. Sirius paused, unable to meet the child's eyes. The six year olds attachment to his godfather sneaked up on them so suddenly that it caught them both by surprise; Sirius was torn between guilt and relief at the thought. He drew the child in an reassuring embrace, slinging an arm around the thin shoulders and resting his chin lightly over the unruly hair.   
  
"She was just upset, and so was Remus. They're really good people," Sirius explained softly. He rubbed the frighteningly thin child's back calmingly in an action that soothed them both. Another memory slowly made his way to the surface of his mind, and he looked down at the top of Harry's head curiously. "How did you know Remus was there?"   
  
"I… I'm not sure," Harry murmured, words slightly muffled against his shirt. He was still trembling from his earlier outburst, and had to take several unsteady breaths before he could speak again. "I thought there was something in the room, like when Padfoot, you were hiding in the park. Then there was a… silver thing, and he was under it. But it was so fast, I thought I imagined it…" Harry broke off, voice breaking into a weak cough.   
  
Harry saw through an invisibility cloak? Sirius thought with some amount of bewilderment. Distractedly, he rubbed the child's back to alleviate his coughs. Either Harry was a disturbingly powerful wizard, or his clairvoyant abilities stretched far above the norm. The six year old was an enigma; Sirius had been surprised so many times that he was already numb against it.   
  
"You're beginning to scare me," Sirius whispered under his breath, tone teasing.   
  
Harry startled, blinking at him, obviously stunned. "I… I am? Sorry…"   
  
"No, it's not that," Sirius said hastily, lightly ruffling Harry's hair. "It's just, you do really surprising things every now and then. Like when you figured out I was Padfoot, knew my name, saw Remus… How do you do all these things?"   
  
"I don't know," Harry looked truly at a loss.   
  
Sirius sighed inwardly, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter. Go to sleep, you look tired."   
  
"But…"   
  
Sirius brushed back a few strands on the child's hair reassuringly at Harry's suddenly frightened expression. "Don't worry. I'm not going to go anywhere."   
  
Harry made a small noise in the back of his throat that was lost in his shirt. Sirius grinned, arranging the thin cloak more snugly around his godson, letting him rest his head sleepily against his shoulder. They sat in a tranquil, comforting silence, with Sirius gently patting the child's back, lulling him into a soothing calm. Harry was still, his hand still stubbornly clutching Sirius' shirt sleeve, but his eyes were peacefully closed, his breathing even.   
  
A white rat squeaked sleepily in the child's pocket.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
Oh, since some people were wondering. In the last chapter, Harry passed the portrait of the fat lady and had a vision of the rat. Then he touched the frame and made it open without the password, and saw the animal on the chair. *dun dun dun!* Well, that's basically what happened...   
  
I'm going to be gone all next week, so I'm trying to make it up by posting quickly. The next post will be Saturday or Sunday, and then, I'll vanish. Sorry about that!   
  
Oh, there was something I should have cleared up earlier. WS takes place in mid to late May. Unfortunately, it was only mentioned once in the second chapter. Percy is still in school, although in classes, and that of course… *nudge nudge* That's why I had so much trouble in making Harry almost eight or almost seven, because there were really no other months to set the time in when the weather was good enough so that Harry could wander in the park, but early enough so that Hogwarts was still in session. Plus, the symbol of spring had an added bonus, but that's overdoing it…   
  
Harry's creepy, isn't he? He's one of those kids who are naturally creepy and don't even know they are, like those insanely smart kids who just know everything without studying, and you just want to wring their necks for absorbing your brain cells? Don't worry, he's not going to grow up like this. It's just his illness. You know, when you get sick, things seem funny? When Harry gets sick, he's far less logical and relies on his instincts a lot more. It'll be explained later.   
  
It's sort of strange though. Harry wanders over half a mile from the infirmary to Dumbledore's office, and still no one notices a little six year old kid wandering through the halls of Hogwarts. Well, maybe it's a double period and everyone was still in classes? There was no one in the common room since it was still class time. Humm…   
  
¤Endriago Luna¤ *coughTsukiTatsucough* & Nicky, well, about the sequel, I can't tell you much! It'll ruin it for you. Umm... all I'm going to say is its really different from what I've written before in that it focuses on another emotion of the human condition which I never touched on before. That probably just made it even more confusing. Ack! I've been obsessed with the sequel, I started writing from chapter 2 on and couldn't stop. It's like a breath of fresh air compared to all the other fics since its so different from what I've tried before... well, not in the genre aspect. It's still action adventure angst drama with no romance, and tons of Harry torture... *sigh* but it... humm... its doesn't have to do with the resurrection of Voldie. Oh, Indiana Jones, Harry will have his first meeting with Snape in the sequel.   
  
I'm glad you all liked Sirius and Remus conversation! (ack! Don't cry, Tarwen *offers tissues*) Eh, you reviewed last chapter, Nacasara? I didn't see you! Aww... your brother can't be that bad. Give him... a tissue box!   
  
I'm flattered, Pantoulfe! Its great that you found time to read my story, and I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thank you very much!   
  
Oh, wow, kaydee, that is the record longest review I've ever received! When I was scrolling up from the bottom of a review page and it took me thirty seconds to get to the beginning, I was thinking, yup, this is kaydee. Its great! Really fun to read and reply to. *grins* Ooo... on the subject of theories, I have this other one that's a bit far fetched. doesn't Ollivander sound like Olliander, the kind of flower? Its a really large, beautiful power whose center is poisonous, doesn't that sort of reflect on Ollivander's wands whose core is the power? Either Rowling as a really twisted sense of humor, or Mr. Olliavnder's in league with big bad Dumbledore. But then again, you could be right. Fawkes was the name someone else gave him... Ack!! PoM... I don't know why but that fic is giving me so many thumbscrews!! It shouldn't be that hard, but... *groan* I have the ending all perfectly planned out, but the middle is a bottleneck. *sigh* Humm... you're right, I do use ack a lot...   
  
summer is great without summer schoo, rowan. You're so lucky!! Speaking of summer school... urg!! I have to read 150 pages by tomorrow 8:00 am! And I haven't even started... ack... gotta run. Thank you for all those great reviews!! I want to reply to them to badly, but... *tears hair out* someone lynch my political science teacher...   
  



	27. of uncompromising circumstances

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
I'm sorry about the really long author's note! But I'm going to be gone next week, so I sort of wanted to reply... ack... sorry!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter twenty-seven - of uncompromising circumstances   
  
  
  
It was with reluctance that Harry awoke; the cocoon around him had regained it's reassuring sense of comfort, and he didn't want to leave it. He was a bit disoriented as he opened his eyes an hour later to find the ceiling had changed yet again. It was a thick red velvet instead of a solid wall, and it took him a while to realize he was staring at the top of a four poster bed, with thick blankets wrapped warmly around him.   
  
_ Padfoot…   
  
_ Harry struggled to sit, but his back screamed in protest. He fell back in the bed with a muffled gasp; the previous strain of walking had left his body flaccidly weak and sore. scanned around for his godfather, He turned his head with obvious effort, breathing a soft sigh of relief when he caught sight of a blurry head lying close to his pillow. Sirius had fallen asleep in a chair again, back twisted awkwardly over the edge of the bed. He seemed so tired, Harry couldn't help but wonder if he slept at all the previous night.   
  
He tugged at the covers, but it felt like he was lifting rocks. His wrist stung with numbed dullness, red and swelling from the previous exertions. Clumsily, he draped a corner of the blanket over his godfather's shoulder. Sirius was oblivious, eyes closed and half hidden by his hand, head resting on his arm in the position he slept in so often since he took Harry out of his relative's care.   
  
Harry sat very still on the bed, unwilling to disturb Sirius when he seemed so weary. There were so many questions that surfaced in his mind since their last conversation, and so many things he didn't understand. Remus and that man knew that he was innocent now, so didn't that mean he could live with Sirius? He desperately wished that was true. He would live in the small, shoddy hotel room and not complain, just as long as he could stay with his godfather. But what if they would returned him to the Dursleys? Uncle Vernon was probably furious at all that occurred; Harry shuddered at the thought.   
  
Something brushed against his leg, making Harry jolt in surprise. It took a while for him to register the tickling prickle against his skin.   
  
Slowly, Harry reached into his pocket and drew out a large ball of fur. It was warm and twitched in his hand, its long whiskers tickling his skin. Harry held the rat gently in his hand, peering at it curiously. Even through the movement, the animal was still asleep.   
  
He didn't know what possessed him to hide the animal into his pocket. It was the same instinct that told him to fear and run from it, yet he carried it with him. The rat seemed so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. Timidly, Harry reached out and stroked the animal on the head. Its whiskers twitched irritably, and it shifted as if stirring awake.   
  
"Hello," Harry whispered, using the same word he greeted Padfoot two weeks ago.   
  
The animal squeaked, sluggishly moving its fat body as it cracked open the small, slit-like eyes. It froze when it noticed the strange room, then jumped almost an inch in the air when it saw him. The rat stared at him with a human-like fear; Harry was sure if the rat could speak, it would be stuttering and whimpering. At first, neither of them moved.   
  
Harry lightly smoothed its fur.   
  
The rat only trembled.   
  
"You're awake already?" Sirius murmured, slurred from sleep. Harry's voice had alerted him, and he had long since been attuned to noise of any sort. He lifted his head, giving the child a small grin as he groggily rubbed his eyes.   
  
Harry gave him a bright smile as greeting.   
  
At the sound of Sirius' voice, the rat gave a blood curling screech and sprung from Harry's grasp. He caught the round lump before it struck the floor, but the animal hissed and bit at his hand. Muffling a sharp gasp of pain, Harry dropped it on reflex. The rat scurried under the bed.   
  
"Harry, what's wrong?" Sirius sharply asked, snapping into attention instantly.   
  
"There was a rat," Harry muttered distractedly, rubbing his palm gingerly. He crawled off the bed, pulling the sheets aside as he searched for any sign of the animal.   
  
"What?!"   
  
Harry stilled; Sirius sounded unusually harsh all of a sudden. But before he even had a chance to answer, a fat hand locked around the child's wrist. Harry shuddered, the grip too reminiscent of Uncle Vernon's whenever he was violent. A brutal tug dragged him off balance. Harry fell to his knees, slamming his head into the frame of the four poster bed. Distantly, he heard a shout.   
  
  
  
  
  
Harry disappeared from sight behind the four poster bed, surprise etched in his features. There was a sharp gasp, and a crack as his head met the wooden frame. Sirius scrambled forward, dread filling his stomach.   
  
"D… don't come an… any closer, Sirius!" a voice squeaked.   
  
Sirius jerked to a stop. His blood froze cold in his veins when a balding head with waxy blood hair peeked from behind. Slowly, the man crawled to his feet, his squinty watery eyes blinking nervously.   
  
"Wormtail…" Sirius growled, his hands clenched. He could barely keep the sea of rage at bay, staring into the face of his best friends' murderer. The thorn in his side ever since Azkaban five years previous. "You bastard!" Sirius gritted out. "You've been at Hogwarts the entire time, you little…"   
  
Both Peter and Harry winced at the transparent rage in his voice.   
  
_ The traitor. The murderer. I ought to…   
  
_ "I'd… I'd stay there if… if I were you," Peter stuttered shakily, hauling the small form of his godson into view. Harry was stiff and wide eyed, staring at the chubby hand around his throat numbly. Sirius recognized the hollow emptiness in the child's gaze with a sinking heart. They were the same when he first saw him without Padfoot's disguise, it was the same after every nightmare. Harry was expecting to be hurt.   
  
All the color drained from Sirius' face when the realization suddenly struck him. "No, Wormtail. Don't hurt him…"   
  
Some of the fear evaporated from the man's countenance at those words, and he smiled with a sickening sort of satisfaction. "Oh, I don't know, Sirius. My hand could slip, and you know…" his hold on Harry's neck tightened abruptly, making the child's eyes widen in terror.   
  
"No!!" Sirius stepped, ready to lunge forward. But Peter took another step back, dragging the child roughly with him.   
  
"Stay right there!" he ordered, pointing with his free hand. "I'll kill him if you come any closer!"   
  
"If you touch one hair on his head, I'll kill you!" Sirius hissed.   
  
Peter lips twitched, a mockery of a sneer. "What can you do right now, Sirius? I have Harry, I can do I want!"   
  
Peter's fingers moved from Harry's neck, leaving dark stains of his fingerprints on the child's skin. Harry drew a shuddering breath, the air rushing back into his lungs, his legs sagging weakly. Peter caught him by the back of his oversized shirt, yanking him sharply to keep him standing. But after the exertion a few hours ago, and the previous injuries still lingering, the child was obviously not going to take much more. Harry was deathly pale, almost as pale as the wasted boy a week ago. It was taking all of Sirius' self control not to rush to the traitor and tear out his throat.   
  
"If you hurt him, I'll kill you," Sirius gritted out, seething.   
  
Peter sniveled and shuddered, his eyes drying. "You can't do anything! You won't dare…"   
  
He trembled with suppressed rage, his blood pounding erratically in his head from the fire coursing through his veins. He glared at Peter as if he was ripping him piece to piece with his eyes alone. "First, James and Lily, and now Harry? How low will you sink?! Harry's just a boy, he's been through so much already! You've already taken his parents away from him, and now this?!"   
  
Peter seemed to falter slightly at those accusations, "I… I didn't mean…"   
  
"You what, you didn't mean for them to die?" Sirius snapped.   
  
"He… he was too strong!" Peter yelled, his voice scratchy and eyes darting around the room fearfully as if afraid that his lord would appear. "He would have killed me!"   
  
"Then you should have died!" Sirius shouted, "You should have died as we would for you!"   
  
"I… I'm not brave like you…" Peter continued, his beady black eyes watering pitifully. "I… he's too strong! What could I have done?"   
  
"You knew exactly what you were doing then, you bastard! You know exactly what you're doing now. Give it up, Wormtail. Voldemort's dead," Sirius growled out, taking a cautious step forward.   
  
Peter shivered fearfully at the Dark Lord's name, but he became more vindictive than ever.   
  
"This boy's the reason why Master left! It should have never came to this!" Peter shrieked, pressing his back against the furthest corner of the room.   
  
He grasped a handful of Harry's messy hair, twisting it painfully. The boy whimpered as he arched his back against the strain, squeezing his eyes in agony. He didn't protest much further than that; he didn't even cry out or struggle. That was not the reaction Peter had anticipated. He had hoped to grind out a few screams of pain from the child to aggravate Sirius, but at his unresisting silence, he faltered. Harry fell forward, only Peter's tight grasp of the back of his shirt kept him from falling.   
  
"Stop! Don't hurt him!" Sirius choked out, noting the dull emerald eyes with mounting anxiety. "He's just a child, he's James' son for god sake. How can you do that to him after everything you've done?!"   
  
"He's the reason why I have to be here, to do this!" Peter screeched, waving his hand about wildly. Harry visibly cringed, his hand on his mouth as if desperately muffling a cry of pain.   
  
"That's a pathetic excuse, and you know that! Just let him go," Sirius insistently shouted, taking a faltering step forward again.   
  
"Harry's life is in your hands, Sirius!" Peter voice dropped into a whisper, his watery eyes scrutinizing him fretfully. "I won't kill him if you'll promise me some things."   
  
Sirius drew a deep breath, feeling his nails dig into his palm. "What things?"   
  
"Let me leave. I'll just run off, disappear. I won't touch Harry again," Peter muttered beseechingly.   
  
Sirius scowled bitterly. Peter's utter and complete selfishness was close to making him sick. He couldn't decide whether he hated Vernon or the rat more. Even to the end, all he cared was his own survival. How much he wanted to wring the worm's neck…   
  
_ Harry or his freedom? Was there any question to that?   
  
_ "Alright," Sirius agreed without a moment's hesitation. "Now let Harry go."   
  
"No! There's one more thing," Peter's hand moved to Harry's neck threateningly. "You'll go back to Azkaban."   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
Horrible cliffy to end you with… especially since I'm going to be gone next week. *sigh* Umm… I should never have posted this.   
  
Wormtail is a lot different in WS than in CD, and I suppose that could be because Harry hadn't stood up and saved him yet. He's a lot more bitter too, but I don't know how to explain that. But since its an AU, it suit's the purpose, doesn't it? I'm trying to cut down on adjectives. And using the thesaurus more often.   
  
No wands, neither of them have wands. Sad, really. But now the cliffy is done, I should probably go look for a closet and bring some rations of food…   
  
You know, I just realized, the first three chapters of the sequel is so abstract and hopelessly confusing. It doesn't start making sense until chapter four, and then everything falls together. But I think it has to do with all the dreams that occurs in the beginning. Crud, I picked up on my really old style as I was writing it, it has symbols! Waah... this really sucks. I don't usually have symbols when I write fanfiction, but... crud...   
  
Lynx - thank you!! Remus and Sirius are still a lot younger than they were in PoA, so they would be somewhat less mature. They should be such good friends though, their personalities compliment each other   
  
stormyfire - thanks!!   
  
MercS - that's okay! Aww... I'm sorry things aren't working out over there. I hope Azkaban goes away! *munches on chocolate cake*   
  
Keara Jordan - oh no, just when you were saying something about Pettigrew hurting Harry... *hides from keara's wrath*   
  
KK - I will!   
  
Essence of Magic - thank you so much! Yes, Fudge is very evil isn't he? He deserves to be fed to the Hungarian Horntail. That man would rip the poor little Harry apart...   
  
wellduh... - love the name! umm... *imitates a rat's voice* squeak?   
  
Nagini - yup, here it is!   
  
Carey - well, Harry sort of assumed the rat was harmless, that's his normal view working against his instincts. Plus, he's a really caring kid.   
  
Puddles - thank you!   
  
Luna Rose - well, sort of...   
  
The Person Who Didn't Do It - umm... they don't really find Peter. It was sort of the other way around in here...   
  
kaydee - Wait! Konnichiwa is hello, it should be... oh crud, I don't remember! It is... ja ne? So much for my year of Japanese, none of it stayed. Neither did spanish, but if you're in california, you know spanish at least basic. Anyway, I going off topic. humm... if Rowling uses foreshadowing in names, then we're all in trouble. With Ollivander, Fawkes, and Fudge (chocolate... *sigh*) Minerva's some roman goddess, which one was it? Oh no, and pigs in the reference of Hogs. I wish she used cows instead, since that can actually trigger an interesting debate on the mad cow disease and cloning, but pigs are just... hey, did you know pigs have an IQ of 74? That's smarter than some humans. humm... you sympathize with Pettigrew? Well, I sort of understand. Sometimes, he doesn't seem all that bad, just some guy forced in a bad situation. *sigh* this chapter will severely change your views on the rattie-poo.   
  
kayla spades - umm... I see what you mean. I sort of thought calling Sirius 'godfather' is a sign of formality that's actually distancing himself from Sirius. But as for Remus, humm, you're right, he should call him Mr. Lupin. Harry only directly refers to Remus once, and that's in chapter 20ish where he sees him under the invisibility cloak.   
  
Dru - *grins* yup   
  
summersun - oh no, Wormtail's grey? *bangs head on table*   
  
Bumblebee Bucy - thank you!! Well, they sort of find Peter...   
  
Super saya - Jin Gotan - umm.. that's a secret!   
  
Lindsay - thank you!   
  
Nicky - Oh... ack... I didn't notice those discrepencies... thanks Nicky!! humm... I should go back and change PoM then, considering I have the dates all wrong. As for WS, it's a bit too late. *sigh* Lets just pretend it makes sense, and Percy... got held back a year? Not very likely huh...   
  
Ari - yeah, it was really weird! In the beginning, Harry seemed somewhat normal too. In the sequel... oh crud... *sigh* I'm glad you liked Sirius' development!   
  
Harriet - thank you! I hope you enjoyed it~   
  
Shades - umm... I don't usually read slash, but I'll check it out!   
  
RavenLady - that's okay! I'm glad you liked them.   
  
Jedi Rowena Gryffindor - I should be thanking you! I'm glad you enjoyed it!   
  
Bored Beyond Belief - yeah, that was basically what happened. Plus, Harry's sleeping potion didn't quite work, not the potion's fault. His body reacted differently. I hope you'll enjoy the sequel as much as this! Although the plot is really different...   
  
Lady Foeseeker - really? Wow... when I wrote this, I thought there would be at least some which have Sirius escaping early. I haven't run across any though, but I haven't been reading Hp fanfiction that long...   
  
Nacasara - wow... I'm not a native english speaker so I was still in ESL when I was in second grade. But my Russian is practically nonexistant now...   
  
Rainbow - yeah, I did notice some of those things Rowling had. I can't imagine Dumbledore actually supporting Voldemort though, but it seems like he's just playing Harry like a pawn in the battle against him. Dumbledore's just creepy...   
  
Indiana Jones - but it's a stupid Political Science text book! If its those, that's not to bad 'cause they're enjoyable, but... *groans*   
  
Lady Foxfire - umm... actually Harry had a vision of the rat, then opened the painting with magic.   
  
Kay - oh no... *senses Kay's growing murderour arua* Peter is... evil   
  
vmr - yup! Harry's really creepy isn't he?   
  
Tarawen - Oh! A poem for chapter 25? Wow... I'm flattered! May I read it sometime? No, don't cry! *gets more tissues* I'm glad you liked their emotions though. Oh no... the rat is... *sigh*   
  



	28. of broken glass

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet (where have you been?!?! I haven't seen you for weeks! Noooo!! Don't die!!), Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
I wrote this without my reading glasses, so it's a bit… how do you say it… rushed? It's really hard especially with one far sighted and one near sighted eye, trying to bend towards your screen… urg. *sigh*   
  
I'm posting this in a hotel room in San Francisco (visiting colleges *sigh*). The internet connection's like… 12 K per minute here. And it's costing me $2 a minute to go online (laptops are god's gift to mankind... but I'm not even religious... so anyway... I wonder if they'll let me bring it when I go to Russia in August. Will the US people think I'm a spy or something?), therefore, I have to leave right now before I empty my pocketbook! The food is extremely good here though... but urg! It's so tiring. Either you walk for 30 minutes, or you drive and look for a place to park for 30 minutes. *dies multiple times* Anyway, this chapter's a bonus since the last chapter was a bad cliffie...   
  
umm... added an at the bottom   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter twenty-eight - of broken glass   
  
  
  
Sirius staggered as if the floor beneath him was suddenly ripped away. All the ability for form coherent words were lost. Sirius stared dumbly at Peter's rat-like face for a long moment.   
  
_ Return to Azkaban? To the dementors? Never see Harry again?   
  
_ He glanced at Harry's ashen face, his emerald eyes glazed and distant. If Harry was frightened by the prospect of dying, he didn't show it. And for some reason, that made Sirius even more upset.   
  
"You can't do this, " Sirius whispered, never shifting his gaze from his godson.   
  
"Why can't I? Go back there, Sirius! Turn yourself into the Ministry! I can't have everyone hunting for me!" Peter shouted bitterly, his voice cracking and squeaking as he trembled.   
  
"Dumbledore knows; Remus knows. They'll be hunting for you anyway!" Sirius snapped, taking another tentative step forward.   
  
"Then tell them you're guilty!" Peter urged without stuttering. His confidence grew when he realized he had the upper hand.   
  
There was a dull crack when Sirius' knuckle refused to take any more strain. "They won't believe me," Sirius gritted out, trembling.   
  
"Tell them!" Peter jumped a little in frustration. "I won't have them telling everyone about me! Turn yourself into the ministry or you'll never see Harry again!"   
  
"I won't be able to see Harry again if I do," Sirius nearly shouted.   
  
Harry' eyes broke from their glazed unresponsiveness at those words. He stiffened under Peter's thick hands, entire appearance shifting from apathy to horror in seconds.   
  
"No…" Harry choked out. He shook his head frenziedly, crawling at Peter's hands as he struggled to reach his godfather.   
  
"Stay still, Harry. Everything's going to be alright," Sirius said as reassuringly as he could, but the anger laced through his words shattered the affect.   
  
"No, Padfoot!" Harry pleaded, struggling to pry Peter's fingers from his shirt. "You can't leave! You promised you wouldn't."   
  
Sirius' throat clinched painfully as he took a small step forward. "Harry, I… I'm really sorry, but…"   
  
Sirius' next words were drowned out by a loud shriek.   
  
Gasping and shaking, Peter shoved Harry aside roughly. Harry was sent sprawling to the floor, missing contact with a wooden bedpost by mere inches. Peter stumbled back, face contorted in agony, loud whimpers wracking his body as he clutched at his wrist with the four fingered hand. Steam sizzled from his wrist and a distinct smell of scorched skin hung thickly in the air.   
  
As to how Peter came across with such a strange injury, Sirius had no clue. But that was the last thing on his mind as he bolted forward, slamming into the fat lump and trapping him against the floor. He knocked the traitor into an edge of a table, overturning glass vials and shattering them into fragments.   
  
"No, Sirius! Take pity, take pity!" Peter begged. He was reduced into a sobbing, pathetic lump within seconds, writhing with rat-like jerks.   
  
"Pity?! How can you say that?" Sirius hissed, garroting the thick, meaty neck. "Pity… after what you did to Lily and James, after what you did to Harry, you're asking for pity?"   
  
The kind of fury that possessed him then was almost blinding in its intensity. All he could see was Wormtail's ghastly white face and beady black eyes wide in terror. He trashed helplessly, digging his nails into Sirius' hand to free himself from his hold. But Sirius barely even registered the incessant stinging in his arms, he was just pounding the pudgy face.   
  
_ The traitor…   
  
_ A satisfying crunch as he connected with the side of Peter's jaw.   
  
_ Lily and James' murderer…   
  
_ Sirius slammed his fist against the rat's face with such a force that Peter's head met the floor with a resounding crack.   
  
_ … tried to hurt Harry, tried to take him away…   
  
_ Peter yelped when Sirius' bony hand wrapped around his neck.   
  
Sirius' breath was coming in sharp gasps, his knuckles sore and burning. Small rivers of blood was running in streams down Peter's face, and the man was squeaking loudly at every strike. Sirius didn't notice the pudgy hand until it was too late.   
  
A sudden stab of pain shot through his side. Sirius almost didn't notice it at first, but as each increasing breath became shorter and shorter, and water seemed to lace the air around him, he hesitated. A shard of glass, murky with a crimson hue, was logged deeply between his ribs. Sirius choked, stunned.   
  
"You…" Sirius broke off, his words lost in a muffled wheeze.   
  
He cried out in agony when Peter pressed his palm against the protruding glass, stabbing it deeper in his chest. Sirius coughed, tasting the bittersweet coppery fluid in a sort of daze. The rage numbed the branding pains shooting through his chest, but the room dimmed oddly.   
  
Peter's smile was one of exultation, although it looked more like a grimace through the film of scarlet. He pried Sirius' hands from his neck, and even though Sirius was far stronger, he just couldn't seem to fight against the rat faced man with the momentary lack of air. Sirius glared in fury, but couldn't form any articulate words.   
  
"It… it punctured you… your lung, Sirius," Peter gasped out, his words slurred from his swollen jaw. "You… you're going to die."   
  
With a low growl, Sirius slammed his fist against his eye, strength escalating from anger coursing through his body. Peter yelped and scurried against the wall pitifully. Still rash and clouded in his judgment, Sirius trapped the glass between his finger and ripped it out with a groan. The pain barely registered in his mind, and blood gushed from the wound in streams. The room dimmed even more, swimming slightly.   
  
"Padfoot!" Harry's childish voice, soft but terrified, cut through his thoughts like a knife.   
  
_ Harry, oh god…   
  
_ He dragged his head up just in time to see a slight figure flinging himself on the sniveling rat, raining blind blows on him. Still weakened by the injuries, he only managed to bring a look of surprise on Peter's features. There was an odd prickling sensation in the air that made the hair on the back of Sirius' neck rise; he wasn't sure whether it was his injuries that produced the strange effect.   
  
Sirius stumbled to his feet, making a desperate grasp for the child. But before he even stood, Peter had a piece of broken glass in his hand and a pale and frantic child in the other.   
  
_ No, you bastard! Let him go! Sirius tried to scream, but no sound left his mouth.   
  
_ Sirius coughed when he struggled to speak, blood pouring through his fingers. It was like inhaling water every time Sirius opened his mouth. He couldn't breathe. Peter's face swam dangerously in his vision, and the strength was sapping from his veins with the blood that poured from his side. Sirius rasped, making a frantic lunge at the traitor, but Peter scurried out of the way. His legs faltered under his weight, all his limbs heavy and rusty. Sirius caught the edge of the four poster, screaming silently at his helplessness. The desperation must have leaked onto his face, because Peter gave a squeaky laugh.   
  
Sirius groaned. He couldn't die! Especially not by Peter. Sirius grinded his nails against his palm, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. He had too much to settle with that bastard, he couldn't give him that satisfaction. He couldn't!!   
  
Sirius forced his legs to stay steady and drew a few futile breaths.   
  
"You didn't comply to our agreement, Sirius," Sirius' face twisted into a scowl at Peter's words. Roughly, the man jerked Harry's head back by his hair and brought the shard of glass to the six year olds neck threateningly, holding it for emphasis. Harry whimpered, clawing at the hand that bent his neck past endurance. "I don't know what I'll do to Harry…"   
  
Sirius' eyes widened.   
  
_ He's just a little boy, he didn't do anything to you… god…   
  
_ He could almost see Harry's frightened face, pale as a sheet and emerald eyes wide behind the glasses. Those eyes that spoke of experiences and visions years past his age, hollow with the realization of the fate that would beset him. And that dull acceptance, knowing that he didn't have a chance at happiness, that he'd never have a chance at happiness… But he was too young. Decades too young!!   
  
Sirius took an unsteady step forward.   
  
_ Don't hurt him, please don't hurt him. Please!!   
  
_ Peter spoke some words that Sirius didn't hear, backing away. There was something wrong with Peter's face. His skin was reddening, scarring, boils rising on the surface like burned rubber. His mouth opened in a silent shriek, and his arm twitched and flexed.   
  
Light refracted off glass.   
  
There was a sharp gasp, and Harry's oversized hospital shirt dyed with a rapidly growing patch of crimson. The child's arms fell to his side, limp and lifeless.   
  
Sirius silently screamed.   
  
With a frantic gasp, Sirius lunged at the traitor, tearing them both off their feet with Harry still trapped in Peter's grip. Sirius plunged the blade of glass into Peter's shoulder with a strength that buried it inches into his flesh. The beady black eyes widened in horror and agony, but Sirius was blind to everything but his own anger. He ripped the glass out, and dug it into his neck. Then his chest. Then his scalded face. Until the room had been stained a deep vermilion, and all Sirius could see was red. But he was rapidly sinking into darkness, drowning in the air and his own blood. A cold numbness was soaking through his veins, and he was tired, so tired.   
  
Sirius discarded the shard, leaving it protruding from Peter's neck, and turned to Harry, lying unresponsively on the carpet, limbs tangled awkwardly and glasses discarded a short ways away. Slowly, as if living a dream, he brushed his fingers over the rapidly cooling fluid.   
  
Choking, he lifted the child in one desperate movement, sinking onto his knees. He enveloped Harry's slight form with a tight embrace, crushing the limp child against him, the one most precious possession he had left in the world. He failed Harry again. How many times had the six year old been abandoned? How many times had he been lied to? And to think that Harry had so much faith in him after all the efforts he took just to teach him trust again, he'd be the one to let him down.   
  
With an unsteady hand, he traced the jagged gasp carved deeply in the six year old's neck, as if trying to wipe it away with the sticky blood. But when Harry's head lolled to one side, his neck blotted with fresh crimson blood that splattered his face and shirt in handfuls, he let his arm slide to the ground. Sirius buried his face in the child's hair, as if trying to shield himself from veracity, and cried.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
The end.   
  
I always wonder what people would say if I said this was the ending. --- Oh crud… I thought a lot of you would catch that. That was such a horrible joke, I'm sorry… I'll never do it again! That wasn't the ending, I've said before, WS is a total of 34 chapters! Umm… sorry… *runs off to hide* I should have said that at the end of the chapter... *sigh*   
  
humm... the people at the front desk doesn't tally time for some reason. When I told them I was online, they said they didn't record it so it's free. *cackle* that = more online time = possible post before Tuesday *grins* unless then finally figure out i've been only for more than half an hour... that = no pocket book... *wails*   
  
  
  
Was that confusing at all? Did anything make sense?   
  
Or am I just evil *cackle*   
  
Rushed, don't you think? A bit confusing too… humm… I think I sort of sped up the bleeding / dying process… I mean, you don't grow that weak from blood loss within the first few minutes. But we're assuming the glass that punctured Sirius' lung was a pretty sharp one. Besides, any puncture to the lung would collapse it, since there's no pressure to maintain breathing. As to why Peter was screaming, well…   
  
The thought that Pettigrew coming nice and easy into Sirius' hands didn't seem right. Nothing in WS' universe was gained easily though, but then again, nothing was gained easily in any of my stories. And things that initially seem easy turns out having a costly price attached. *hides* it wasn't intended!! Ohh... ack, I feel flames coming on... well Peter sort of got hurt, so... I get to... live?   
  
Ack!! I can't reply to anything!! No time here, and I haven't showered in 2 days... umm... you didn't hear that! But ack, I have to go before I fume the next guide to death...   
  



	29. of blood

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter twenty-nine - of blood   
  
  
  
Remus drew a sharp breath, staggering violently. He caught the wall of the empty hall reflexively, barely catching himself from falling.   
  
And then, as abruptly as it came, it was gone.   
  
Remus stood haltingly, eyes darting through the darkened hallway in panicked confusion. His ribs were unhurt and undamaged, the air pleasantly cool in his throat. All of the previous stab of agony felt like a wisp of some distant imagination.   
  
Remus frowned, oddly uneasy.   
  
_ Something happened…   
  
_ He reached for his wand in his cloak pocket. He and Dumbledore had cast the wards protecting Sirius' room, and if any were damaged, he would receive signs of it immediately. He knew that odd flash of pain wasn't the warnings of protection wards shattering, but he couldn't help but feel suspicious. He lifted the polished wood into the dimming evening sun, and froze.   
  
The tip was glowing red.   
  
Without another thought, Remus spun around, heading for the nearest shortcut to Dumbledore's office. He tapped at a dusty painting, squeezing behind it as it slowly cracked open, and blindly ran down the rocky stairs. He tore through the narrow passageway, running into stray cobwebs and centuries worth of dust.   
  
That sharp pain was a warning? How could that be possible? Perhaps it was his heightened senses that magnified it, but even then, whatever triggered it must have caused severe damage to generate a backlash that strong.   
  
He couldn't even begin to imagine what happened. Could the ministry arrived unannounced, and somehow broke their way into Sirius' hiding place? Could they have executed him without a trial? He had just rediscovered his friend, and he couldn't lose him again. He couldn't…   
  
Remus threw the password at the gargoyle haltingly before dashing up the stairs two at a time. He knew something was wrong the moment he stepped into the headmaster's office.   
  
The magic was so thick it was suffocating, permeating the air in waves and drawing its icy fingers through his flesh. Remus reeled back, coughing. But the office was the same by all appearances, papers disorganized and meticulous at the same time; only the phoenix was missing from its perch.   
  
"Sirius?" Remus called urgently, rushing to the familiar portrait with a sinking dread.   
  
The oil painting of the stern peddler was missing from the frame; the entire picture hung on one side as if something had tore and ripped it away. He squeezed inside through the narrow crack, eyes scanning the room worriedly.   
  
And stilled.   
  
The acidic scent of blood struck him in a wave of solid ice, so acute that Remus could almost taste the bitter sweetness on his tongue. It was almost as if Dumbledore's vermilion room was dyed with blood.   
  
He took a tentative step forward, eyes darting through the room agitatedly. The floor was glossy and fluidic under his feet, like…   
  
Blood.   
  
His breath hitched in his throat, Remus glanced down. A scarred face stared up at him, beady eyes wide and unseeing with a sort of horror as he laid on his back at the foot of the door. Blood streaked his face in long, raw gashes, soaking the entire length of his worn robes. Remus stumbled back, catching the wall, stunned.   
  
_ Pettigrew…   
  
_ Remus gritted his teeth, feeling a surge of anger more potent than he ever felt before. He didn't know how the traitor came to be there, and he didn't care. Right then, if it wasn't for the concern for his only friend preoccupying him, he would have kicked and stomped on the body by the doorway.   
  
Reality returned to him abruptly like a ton of bricks.   
  
"Sirius!!" Remus called out, with hints of panic leaking into his tone. "Where…?"   
  
A warm presence tickled the side of his face. Remus distantly registered Dumbledore's phoenix settling on his shoulder, singing a mournful thrill before spreading its fiery wings again. He flew as if guiding him, circling a shadowy form once to land gracefully on the four poster.   
  
Remus took several cautious step forward, squinting to see in the dimly lit room. A patch of black hair caught his eye.   
  
"Sirius…?" Remus breathed, throat constricting painfully.   
  
Sirius was twisted in an awkward position the ground, caught between kneeling and leaning. He hutched over himself, arms wrapped firmly around a form as if defensively protecting something in his possession. When Remus touched his shoulder tentatively, Sirius all but collapsed, falling stiffly to one side. His eyes were closed, expression frozen in grimace of pain and defeat. His arm fell to one side, revealing a thick patch of blood that seeped into his white shirt.   
  
"No…" Remus choked out, pressing his fingers against the wound in a desperate action to staunch the flow.   
  
_ This wasn't suppose to happen. Not when he finally learned the truth, not when they finally had a chance…   
  
_ With an unsteady hand, he reached up to search for a pulse, but his arm shook so violently that it only smeared the blood.   
  
_ No, please… don't die. He'd gone too far to lose it all again!   
  
_ There was a raspy gasp.   
  
A violent tremor wracked Sirius' thin frame, before he fell still again. His head fell to one side, and a stream of blood colored his chin.   
  
Remus caught his breath, carefully easing his friend to his uninjured side. Sirius' body tensed, and choked, drowning coughs ripped from his throat. Thick, murky fluid flowed from his mouth in handfuls before Sirius drew a weak, shuddering breath.   
  
_ Oh god…   
  
_ "Sirius, hold on, just hold on," Remus whispered, tone almost pleading. He groped for his wand, leaving patches of red across his robes. He needed to send for help, they both needed help…   
  
He ripped at his tattered cloak, pressing the helm against the pulsing wound. The fluid was warm and sticky on his hands, but Remus forced his hand to be steady. But Sirius was losing too much blood too quickly; judging from the deep intrusion, it must have caused internal damage as well. He was dying.   
  
A patch of wild black hair caught his eye. Carefully, Remus pried away Sirius' stiff hand with difficulty. The slight form of Harry, slipped lifelessly from the crook of his arm, slumping indolently against Remus' shoulder. His head lolled back, a splatter of brilliant red across his neck.   
  
Blood was running in streams across Harry's face, neck, shirt, staining his too pale skin crimson.   
  
Remus could feel the color draining from his face, his stomach churning violently.   
  
"No…"   
  
A jagged gash was carved into the child's neck, thick and swelling. Trembling, Remus pressed an edge of his cloak against the wound, the cloth already soaked with Sirius' blood.   
  
"No, no, no… Harry?" Remus choked out, dabbing at the blood on Harry's face. He was silent, so pale that Remus could see the blue veins on his neck. As he brushed against the child's cheek gently, his head fell flaccidly to one side.   
  
No, please not Harry too! They're all he had left… no…   
  
Lightly, he rested his head against the child's chest, holding his breath. But his heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that it drowned out all other sounds.   
  
His throat constricted so tightly that it hurt to even breathe. The air was heavy with the bitter tang of blood. And the only two people he had left in were lying, limp and lifeless on the vermilion rugs. Remus dug his nails into the flesh of his palm, desperately wondering if everything was just a terrible nightmare.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
Oh, grr… I'm pissed now. WS lost 23 reviews when ffNET died on June 14, so much for their announcement on losing no data. CD lost 1, but that doesn't matter. But 23?!?! Urg! crud…   
  
Eh? Kaydee, you ok? What's wrong? Umm… allergies? Moodswings? *offers tissues* Oh! You have a dog too! What's he like? Big, black, and fluffy? *grins*   
  
Sorry about that rather unforunate joke on the last chapter! I tried to make it up in PoM, but I took that one down. It's going to make a come back really soon. This chapter's short, I know! But I will start combining chapters later on to make up for the lost time. PoM may go on a rather prolonged hiatus after chapter 10 so I can work on WS' sequel, because PoM really isn't agreeing with me. Urg... it's a really hard story to escalate, but I'll figure something about.   
  
humm... about the gash on Harry's neck; it's really dangerous. Most people who get their neck slit doesn't die from choking, but rather blood loss. There are 2 main arteries that go to your brain (that's why we take our pulse at your neck. It pulses with your heart), and if you puncture it, you're basically going to go comatose The brain needs a lot of oxygen to function, and when those cells die, the person's as good as dead. That doesn't make Harry's situation look to bright, does it?   
  
Short author's note, i know! But this headache has been stuck with me since yesterday and its... urgggggggg!!   
  



	30. of light and dark

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
umm... ignore the PoM update. I accidently uploaded this to PoM rather than WS... *hides* sorry about that!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter thirty - of darkness and light   
  
  
  
// _  
  
It was white.   
  
That was all Harry could see, light so bright that he couldn't even make out his own hands without squinting. He raised his arms to shield his face from the blinding brightness, but the light seemed to seep from the very air around him, and he could see nothing.   
  
Harry closed his eyes, expecting the world around him to be an oddly placed dream. He didn't remember falling asleep. Rather, all the memories drifting in his mind was muddled and blurred.   
  
Where was he? Why was he there? Harry couldn't remember, but he couldn't bring himself to care. There was a feeling of peacefulness about the world around him that he could remember ever feeling before. The air itself was like a drug, veiling his senses in a thick cloud. Harry felt as if he was floating through water, free from everything that could possibly hurt him again.   
  
'Don't think,' a silky voice whispered in his ear. 'Just close your eyes and let yourself go. You'll be free.'   
  
The voice was soothing, comforting, just listening to it left the lingering sensation of warmth in his mind. He wanted to reach for it, but something in the back of his mind cringed away. There was a strange bitterness in the back of his throat. It wasn't right, something wasn't right. There was something he was forgetting, something important…   
  
__ Padfoot!!   
  
_ The image of his godfather, swaying on his feet as he fought to breathe, with blood coating his side in thick patches of crimson flashed through his mind.   
  
Harry jolted violently, the peaceful calmness shattered.   
  
_ Sirius was hurt! He could have been dying, or perhaps… no!_ He was the only person who ever cared about him enough to save him; Harry couldn't lose him too! He already lost his parents…   
  
Harry fought to open his eyes again, but the light burned painfully. He struggled, but the air felt like water around him, thick and clammy. He kicked out, reached blindly around, trying everything and anything just to get away. But every attempt seemed to make the air thicker around him, and soon, it was like molasses that he was clawing through. It seeped into his mouth, clogged his throat, choking back his breath and flooding his lungs.   
  
And the light grew brighter.   
  
\\   
  
  
  
  
  
"Damnit! Please…" Remus choked out, his fist tightening around the wand so firmly that he could feel moisture under his nails where it cut into his palm.   
  
Keeping his hand steady forcefully, he held the polished wood above the swelling cut above Harry's neck.   
  
The tip glowed a pale blue, before flickering out.   
  
Harry was unresponsive. Remus rested his ear against the child's chest again, his ears faintly registering the feeble beatings of his heart. His hands were ice cold, Remus couldn't even find the pulse on Harry's wrist. Every breath was soft and weak, as if Harry was fighting to breathe. The six year old had lost too much blood for someone already so frail. He was dying.   
  
Remus gritted his teeth and whispered the healing charm again. But it was impossible. No dark creature could be capable of magic so pure.   
  
He bit his lip to contain the storm of frustration, and tasted bitter acid. If he lost either of them…   
  
Remus pressed the cloth against Harry's neck more firmly, a futile attempt to seal the gash with his fingers. His gaze traveled to Sirius, slumped against the bed with a tightly bound, makeshift bandage against his side. In the dimly lit room, Remus could barely make out the slow, sluggish rise and fall of his chest. Instincts told him to help his friend, but the six year old held him back. He had to save Harry. He knew if Sirius was here, that would be what he wanted. If anything happened to James' son, Sirius would never forgive himself. But Remus wasn't sure if he could live with losing either of them.   
  
Another agonizing gasp as Harry fought to breathe, and then silence.   
  
"Oh god… no!!" he choked out, chest constricting painfully.   
  
Remus carefully lifted the lifeless child, raking his mind for a spell, any spell that could help him.   
  
_ Where was everyone? They needed help! Damnit… where were they…? Sirius' dying, Harry's dying…_   
  
  
  
  
  
//   
  
_ It was black.   
  
That was all he could see. Darkness on every side, darkness everywhere he looked, darkness lacing his fingers, darkness overshadowing his eyes.   
  
Sirius took a small step forward, musing as the darkness beneath his feet rippled like pools of water. But it made no sound as he placed his weight on it, and stood resolutely firm. Sirius took another step, and another, and another, just so he could amuse himself by watching the solid water.   
  
__ If this was hell, it was boring.   
  
_ He had hoped he would be able to see James and Lily at least, but there was nothing. But he probably didn't deserve heaven, and if he did, James and Lily wouldn't want to see him. He had failed Harry.   
  
Sirius fell to his knees.   
  
The water churned violently, but held firm. Numbly, Sirius watched his reflection stare back at him. His hair was ragged, his eyes dead. He looked horrible to even his standards, which had significantly lowered since Azkaban. But not that it mattered anymore.   
  
He deserved this place. He deserved to suffer, just as he did in Azkaban. He deserved to rot in darkness for eternity, after all that he did to James, to Lily, to Harry. He just hoped Wormtail wasn't here too.   
  
Damn that rat. Damn him!!   
  
Sirius covered his face with his hands, tensing his fingers so harshly that he clawed as his skin. The jagged wound, slit across his throat of the young… too young child, was burned into his eyelids. His fault. His fault!! He never failed to drag the innocent child into trouble. If he had taken care of him, protected him, kept his promise, then Harry would never have been hurt.   
  
Perhaps if he never escaped…? No, then Harry would still be in the care of those abusive relatives. He should have escaped sooner, yes, and done something. Something to help him!   
  
Should have told Harry about Peter. Should have strangled that rat to death in the beginning. Should have helped Harry sooner.   
  
Distantly, Sirius noted, with some grimness, that he was crying. Strange, really. He hadn't cried since the night James and Lily died. Blinding, hot tears that threatened to rip him apart. He was sobbing uncontrollably in his hands, out of guilt, anger, fury all directed against himself. He didn't even care that he was a twenty-five year old adult who survived the horrors of Azkaban.   
  
He hid his face in his hands, eyes downcast. He wanted to move but had nowhere to go. He wanted to leave but didn't dare. He wanted to rot where he knelt but didn't think he deserved the decency.   
  
Sirius drew a shuddering gasp and fell silent.   
  
\\   
  
  
  
  
  
There was a sharp clash as the portrait was thrown completely aside.   
  
Remus felt more than saw Dumbledore burst into the room, the hair on the back of his neck prickled at the flicker of power that passed through the room. There was an abrupt and thick pause as Dumbledore froze at the doorway. Remus couldn't imagine how he looked, kneeling on the floor with Harry sprawled against him and Sirius slumped against his blood-stained arm.   
  
"Dumbledore, you have to help them," Remus whispered hoarsely. "I can't manage the healing spell… they're… Harry isn't breathing…" Remus couldn't seem to find the voice to continue.   
  
In two long strides, the headmaster was across the room, unusually agile for someone so ancient. He knelt beside them, his blue eyes darkening further. With a carefully controlled wave of his hand, Harry's slight form convulsed like a poorly mastered puppet. Remus flinched, a stab of pain raking his chest at the agony on the child's face. There was a barely audibly gasp, and Harry gave a feeble gasp of air. Remus' throat was too constricted to allow a sigh of relief.   
  
"I can't heal him completely, he lost too much blood," Dumbledore murmured; the thickness of his voice was the only betrayal of how much the headmaster was distressed. "Remus, let me take Harry. Use the fireplace and bring Madam Pomfrey. Hurry."   
  
Remus nodded, lifting the child with trembling hands.   
  
A warm presence brushed past his arm. The phoenix circled overhead, before gracefully on his shoulder, looking down on Harry's still form. It lightly placed his head on the child's neck; a mournful thrill stirred from its throat, before pearl-like tears ran from its eyes and seeped into the inflamed skin.   
  
The frayed flesh reddened vividly. At each drop of fluid, gash mended around it as if sealed by invisible hands. Within seconds, the pulsing wound had faded into a faint scar, a jagged line of discolored skin that stretched from Harry's ear to his collarbone.   
  
Remus caught his breath.   
  
The phoenix closed its red eyes and another note of sadness filled the room. A luminous, blood red feather slipped free from its plume, fluttering slightly before settling over the tattered sleeve of Harry's wrist. It fizzled brilliantly, almost blinding him in its intensity. When Remus opened his eyes again, the phoenix feather was gone.   
  
  
  
  
  
// _  
  
Sirius fell on his keeps, the solid water rippling violently under him. Dully, he marveled at how firm yet yielding the silky rock was. His bloodshot, hollow gaze stared back at him, blurred by the reflection.   
  
It was so cold, so empty, so much like Azkaban that it made him shudder every time he looked skyward. He deserved this place, but Harry didn't. Please, he didn't care what happened to him. He could suffer with dementors for the next hundreds years, just don't let the child suffer too! But it was too late…   
  
Sirius let himself fall face forward against the glassy water, feeling too weary to even hold his head upright.   
  
He had raged about everything and anything, about his own foolishness, Peter's betrayal, about his rashly leading himself to his own downfall and taking Harry down with him. He had long since screamed himself hoarse, clawed at his face, and pounded the watery ground until his palms were raw and bleeding. And now, he was just left with an overwhelming sense of emptiness.   
  
Sirius closed his eyes, letting the icy numbness seep into his face. He felt deadened, as if someone had carved out his blood and flesh, living behind a hollow shell of apathy.   
  
Distantly, he could hear whispers of voices that triggered a warm memory. Help me, it seemed to plead with him. But his eyelids were so heavy, and he was so tired…   
  
Sirius fought to open his eyes again, feeling as if just lifting his head was a desperate struggle. Darkness seeped into sight, and for a moment, he couldn't decide whether he was looking at the inside of his eyelids or the dark expanse that surrounded him.   
  
A pale light brushed past his field of vision, and Sirius jerked in surprise at the violent contrast. He sat up, the heaviness shattered and forgotten. The glassy floor under his hands was suddenly no longer black. There was a greyness that tinged its edges, as if someone had poured light through a small crack in its surface. Sirius peered at it closer, and nearly jumped to his feet in shock.   
  
A child was trapped deep within its waters.   
  
_ \\   
  
  
  
  
  
"Lay him down," Madam Pomfrey's voice was shaking slightly, without her usual composure. "Quickly. He's not going to hold out for much longer."   
  
Dumbledore levitated Sirius' prone form onto the four poster bed with a stoic and stony expression. But the dark glint in his eyes betrayed him. He had been unnervingly restrained with a silent fury since he rushed into the guestroom, minutes behind his former pupil.   
  
"It cut too deep," the nurse said hoarsely. "It cut too deep…"   
  
Remus tensed, hand instinctively tightening around the child resting against him. When Harry had been healed and the nurse regretfully admitted she could do no more but hope, he found himself unable to relinquish him. He was beginning to understand what Sirius felt two weeks ago, when he had nothing else left in the world but a six year old boy and a nearly lost friend.   
  
"What…?" Remus whispered; his voice sounded hollow even to his ears. "What do you mean?"   
  
"His left lung collapsed, I'm not sure if…" the nurse trailed off, tracing invisible patterns in the air.   
  
That was a warning not to speak, and not to disturb her.   
  
Remus held his breath, willing the waves of panicked desperation into the back of his mind. He sank back in the duvet, wrapping his cloak around Harry more snugly and squeezing the child's hand for reassurance. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the sight of the nurse, muttering quiet charms above the emaciated frame of his friend.   
  
_ This was wrong. This shouldn't be happening…   
  
_ If anything happened to Sirius, Harry would be shattered. His godfather was the only person he ever accepted into his life, the only person he trusted without reserve. If Sirius died, he'd never be able to trust again. He'd never be able to…   
  
A sharp stab of blinding pain.   
  
Remus choked back a muffled gasp, gripping the edge of the chair reflexively. He rasped for breath as a hand seemed to be squeezing his chest, but every mouthful of air was like water, crushing his lungs. Dragging himself unsteadily to his feet, he carefully placed Harry on the thick divan and staggered towards the door.   
  
"Remus?" he could hear Dumbledore call behind him, but the voice was distant and convoluted as if traveling through liquid.   
  
Remus shook his head, silently willing them to turn their attentions to Sirius and Harry, not him. But every step he took seemed to be heavier, his limbs sluggishly obeying. The lights that lit the small room were becoming blinding in their brightness, and Remus couldn't even see his own hands. As he struggled to reach the portrait frame, the room swam in his vision. Dimly, Remus noted how his legs crumbled beneath him, and the floor swaying to one side before jumping up to catch him.   
  
  
  
  
  
//   
  
_ Sirius pounded his fists against the solid water, feeling it ripple beneath his hands in waves. But every attempt only stirred at the fluid, as if he was dropping weightless leaves on a darkened pond.   
  
"Harry!!" he shouted desperately, willing that somehow, his voice could reach the child. He slammed his hand against the black glass, barely registering the biting pain that followed.   
  
He didn't know how the child came to be there, but all those questions were drowned out by the icy desperation that was filling his mind. His godson was there, trapped under a sheet of black. At that moment, he forgot where he was or why he was there. He forgot they could be dead or dying or lost. All that mattered was the child, and Sirius knew he had to get to him. He dug his nails into the ground beneath him, but all that followed was a burn of agony and blood flowing from the tip of his fingers.   
  
Harry was still, form drowned out by the bleached hospital clothes that spread around him as if floating weightless. He was a stark contrast to the dyed black waters, face so pale that it was unnerving. At his voice, the child seemed to stir slightly, eyes fluttering to stare blankly at his surroundings.   
  
"Harry!" Sirius shouted again, clawing at the transparent wall that trapped him. "Harry, do you hear me? Its Sirius… it's Padfoot! Harry?"   
  
The child squinted as if trying to see through the darkness, a small frown crossing the young features. He was unresponsive to his cries, every word passing unheard. Sirius banged his hand against the floor again, and as Harry stared unseeingly ahead, let his arm fall, feeling ready to crack from frustration and helplessness.   
  
Sirius drew a shuddering breath, resting his forehead against the child's with the clear glass between them. He placed his hand over Harry's smaller one, the only sense of comfort he knew how to offer. "It's alright, Harry. I'll get you out of there. I'll never leave, I promise this time."   
  
_ \\   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
This is a confusing chapter, isn't it? It's sort of meant to be that way because of the overall screwed up mood, but… Ack, I was playing around with balancing a double story line that relate to one another distantly, added with the confusion of dreaming (dreams are screwed up. Since when did we ever have a dream that makes sense? Its an attempt at a dream sequence that makes the truth of that statement, although it came out just… weird) humm… I burnt out my muse of the late, and believe it or not, this chapter took me a week of brooding, and I still couldn't finalize it. It's a rough draft that may be rewritten in the future.   
  
oh, ack, looks like everyone predicted the Fawkes thing. So much for the usual unpredictability... but Sirius didn't get healed 'cause of his internal injuries. humm... launching into the thing about a human lung breathing from negative pressure and why a hole would collapse it is tempting *cackles evilly* but then again, he still has 1 functioning lung, so that's why he was still breathing before.   
  
cereal = neutral's stories, kaydee? eek... that makes me feel... like... what do you call that disorder? Has something to do with ringing a bell to make a dog sit or drool or something, some psycology thing I can't remember. *grins* actually, all the medical stuff from PoM comes from parents. They're doctors (really interesting dinner conversations, yup yup). Ooo! You're Voldie is disguise? *bows repeatedly and throws... snake treats?* you know, I took something similar and I ended up with Remus or something. It's strange, I certainly don't act that composed, but that's ranting (you're rubbing off on me! urggg...). If you're going to get a shrink, gimme his number *cackles evilly*   
  
Anyway... symbols! Yay! I thought I was an idiot for adding them because no one will ever look for them, but I was wrong! WS' sequel has tons of symbols... *sigh* I can't help it!! The story's so sadistic... Blood symbolizes different things in different chapters. In chapter 28, it symbolized redemption. In chapter 29, it symbolized emotional and physical loss, but also in some twisted way, life. Umm... my brain's screwed up.   
  
ack, don't eat your fist, Rainbow! Umm... try one of those hacky sacks, good stress relievers when you squeeze them. humm... I didn't realize chapter 29 was suspenseful! But since Tabby, summersun, Whale of the World, and a lot of others thought otherwise... ack...   
  
I'm so sorry about the short, yet another cliffee-ish chapter 29! I'm going to combine chapters 31 and 32 to make it up, and post really quickly. I'm itching to get the sequel out... I've already gotten the first 2 chapters of that written...   
  
Forgot to mention this, but I have a website! There's nothing there, basically just a layout and 4 links and some ranting, but go there anyway. The image took forever to find, but it suits the purpose *grins* so go visit! neutrality   
  
umm... since its summer, updates will come a lot quicker now.   
  



	31. of unexpected occurrences and overdue ex...

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter thirty-one - of unexpected occurrences   
  
  
  
Sirius sat up with a jerk and a gasp, blankets dropping from his shoulder to fall to the floor. His eyes darted through the whitewashed room in frantic confusion, breathing shallow. There was a lingering echo in his memory, but it was rapidly slipping away.   
  
_ Something about Harry… about darkness, water…. What?   
  
_ Sirius inwardly frowned in bewilderment, but the sense of urgency didn't fade. It took a moment for his numbness to fade; Sirius muffled a cry of pain as a stab of fire laced his lungs and tore at every breath. It rattled in his chest as if the air was filled with needles that pricked his body. Sirius coughed, but it only came out as a muffled groan, falling back against the bed heavily.   
  
"Sirius!"   
  
A gaunt, pale face with flaxen hair drifted into his vision. Sirius blinked disjointedly, and it took a few seconds before he recognized Remus.   
  
"Harry," Sirius croaked desperately, tugging at Remus' cloak. "Where…?"   
  
Remus' expression softened, as he pressed a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder when he threatened to move again. "Harry's okay. Don't try to move. You're badly hurt."   
  
But Sirius wasn't alleviated. He struggled to lift his head, searching the room for any sign of the child. Remus shifted the pillows to give him some leverage and gestured to one side. A hospital bed was stretched out across his own, a small form could be barely seen on its surface. Sirius gave a long sigh of relief, dropping his head against the cushions. It was impossible to discern his condition with the child's back towards him, and Sirius stiffened when a thought seized him.   
  
"How… how is…" Sirius struggled to speak despite his protesting lungs, but a raspy cough cut his words short.   
  
"Relax, Sirius. Harry's alright," Remus reassured him, picking the blanket from the floor and spreading it over him.   
  
Sirius pushed his hand away distractedly, "See him… let me…"   
  
Remus hesitated, but the look on Sirius' face was one of stubbornness. He shook his head in defeat. Carefully, he lifted the child from the bed, and carried him to his godfather. Sirius sat up jerkily, barely even registering the branding pain in his side. He drew the child close and lifted the thin arm, desperately checking it for a pulse.   
  
Harry's head fell against Sirius' arm as he was jostled, and the child made a soft moan of protest. His eyes were peacefully closed in a drug induced sleep, breath soft and rhythmic. Cautiously, Sirius peeled back the edge of his collar. There was no gaping wound on the Harry's neck, just a jagged line of discolored skin and a ring of purple bruises. Sirius drew a sharp breath, hand lingering on a purpling handprint etched in the child's skin.   
  
"Harry's okay," Remus assured him. "He's alright. Don't worry."   
  
Sirius fell back against the pillow with a long sigh, hugging the child close as if he was afraid someone would rip him away.   
  
Remus smiled softly at the sight, and settled on spreading the blanket over them both.   
  
"Don't try to talk," he said quickly, when Sirius opened his mouth again. "Your left lung collapsed, and it took Madam Pomfrey a good half hour to repair it."   
  
Sirius furrowed his brow in confusion.   
  
Remus sighed and sat at a bedside chair, the shadows around his eyes more pronounced than ever. He never shifted his gaze from the pair, his expression a mixture of pensive relief. Cautiously, as if unsure, he reached forward and gave his friend's hand a small squeeze.   
  
"For a moment there, we weren't sure if you two were going to make it," Remus said quietly.   
  
Sirius' expression darkened, but he made no attempt to speak.   
  
"The two of you almost died last night. Fawkes helped Harry, but he was still unstable. And you…" Remus trailed off, closing his eyes and letting his head fall wearily against the palm of his hand. "We were lucky that we got you to Madam Pomfrey in time…"   
  
He drew an unsteady breath, releasing Sirius' hand jerkily. The acute fear of losing his friend just a day before was driven by the situation. When Sirius was suddenly awake and recovering, Remus felt the barriers driven between them by the five years of misunderstanding slowly resurfacing.   
  
Sirius must have known or understood. He caught Remus wrist before he backed away completely, clasping it firmly.   
  
Remus smiled reassuringly at his friend, not trusting himself to speak again. But the strain of the last few hours was crumbling down over him, and he could feel his composure slipping. Trembling, he leaned forward and gave Sirius a tentative, one-armed hug to reassurance. It was awkward, with Harry's slight form trapped between them, and the stiff bandages that coated Sirius' side. The chair was eating uncomfortably into Remus' legs, but he barely noticed it. All he could feel was an overwhelming wave of relief, feeling as if someone had finally thrown open the window after years of imprisonment.   
  
"Next time you decide to pull another stunt like that, at least warn me beforehand," Remus muttered, tone forcibly light. He stepped back slowly, giving Sirius a shaky smile.   
  
Sirius made an small sound in the back of his throat, sounding oddly like a mixture of a cough and a chuckle. Remus finally managed a small laugh, but it came out more like a choked sigh of relief.   
  
"With the wards going off like that, I'm surprised you didn't alert half the staff," Remus continued, resting an elbow against the edge of the bed and resting his head on his hand. Despite the weak smile in his features, he suddenly seemed very weary and worn, as if he aged years overnight. There was a deep discoloration of skin that spread from his cheek; Sirius' countenance darkened in concern.   
  
"Remus, what…?" Sirius coughed out, lightly touching the reddish bruise.   
  
Remus dropped his head in an attempt to hide it, hand instinctively covering his face. "Oh that. It's a long story." He gave Sirius an almost sheepish smile. "I sort of… fell…"   
  
"You collapsed?" Sirius choked out. Remus flushed slightly, exasperated at Sirius' rather blatant words.   
  
"Well, it had something to do with…" Remus hesitated, giving his friend an oddly searching look. He drew a deep breath, the smile fading from his features altogether. "a blood oath."   
  
Sirius choked, coughing roughly as he struggled to speech. All he managed to whisper was a strangled, "What?!" before he dissolved in a fit of coughing.   
  
Remus offered a glass of water, patting his friend's back sympathetically. Sirius didn't accept it, searching Remus' face fixedly. At his horrified expression, Remus hastened to explain, trying to keep his tone as calm as possible. "When I found you and Harry, I mixed our blood while trying to staunch the bleeding. It was a complete accident, but combined with the situation and the connection we already shared, it developed into a sort of… bond. Dumbledore thinks that's what kept you and Harry alive…"   
  
Sirius sank back, speechless and stunned. He had studied oaths in school before, and the marauders had attempted it multiple times without success. But those actions were childhood impulsiveness; such bonds required much more commitment then they understood. And a blood oath was the strongest, most difficult, and most rare…   
  
"Dumbledore was very vague," Remus continued quietly. "He described it as stacking three bricks together: breaking each one individually is easier than breaking all three at the same time. I suppose we'll have to read up on it later." Remus smiled again, somewhat apologetic. "I wasn't really listening when he explained it. That was when Pettigrew…"   
  
Sirius made a strangled sound, eyes narrowing with a dangerous glint. Reflexively, his arm tightened around his godson. "Wormtail…" he hissed bitterly. "Did…?"   
  
"You were lucky, Sirius," Remus said slowly.   
  
Sirius tensed. "What…?"   
  
"I don't know how, but Pettigrew managed to get stabbed twenty-seven times by you and still crawled away with his life, especially after those burns..."   
  
Sirius jolted, making a frantic effort to sit, Harry still caught in a desperate clasp against his shirt. Remus caught his shoulder in a restraining grip.   
  
"No, Sirius, listen to me," Remus eased his friend back against the bed slowly, and when Sirius protested, grasped him firmly by the arm. "If you killed him, you would have had to go to Azkaban. He wasn't worth it. He wasn't worth losing Harry again."   
  
Sirius' expression was still grim, but his arm tightened around his Harry defensively. He was still bitterly angry and indignant against the traitor. After what he did to James and Lily, to Harry, Sirius couldn't think of a suitable punishment that Peter deserved. The rat deserved to suffer for the rest of his life at the extent he tortured Harry.   
  
But when it came between exacting revenge and raising his godson, Sirius already decided long ago. His gaze drifted to the six year old, sleeping peacefully with his head nested against his shoulder. He brushed back the thick tendrils of hair from Harry's face as reassurance to them both.   
  
"Its not worth losing him again, Padfoot," Remus whispered beside him. "Harry needs you. You can't leave him, especially not now…" Remus trailed off with a resigned sigh. He obviously had many more things to say, but could put his thoughts to words. Suddenly smiling, he added, "Dumbledore's speaking with Fudge right now. With Pettigrew."   
  
Sirius's eyes widened, the true meaning of those words sinking in.   
  
Remus nodded, smile widening. "You're free."   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
A sharp turn, isn't it?   
  
  
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter thirty - of explanations   
  
  
  
Sirius lingered in the secluded room of the hospital wing, impatiently waiting for the membrane of his lung to heal and the ability to speak coherently again. He saw little of Dumbledore and Remus that week, but he caught bits and pieces of conversations that passed.   
  
Pettigrew was put on trial, with Remus and Dumbledore as witnesses. He was mercifully excluded, due to 'health' reasons that sounded suspiciously exaggerated, but Sirius was relieved he didn't have to face those thickheaded bastards. His story, oddly, was sounding exaggerated as well. Fudge, as an attempt to save his flimsy reputation, changed his stance overnight from Sirius being the mad mass murderer to the valiant godfather who single-handedly fought off the dementors and tracked down his best friend's betrayer for vengeance. Within days, Pettigrew was carted off to Azkaban, with an anti-transfiguration cell and stamped with a life sentence.   
  
Sirius remained in the whitewashed room, as dull as it was small, and read the prophet headlines from the chair beside Harry's bed. He couldn't help a rueful smile at ridiculous articles he read that discussed theories on his escape, and yet more theories on how he managed to track down Pettigrew. He inwardly frowned when he came across an article that revealed the events of the day of the rat's capture.   
  
So much of that day came away blank.   
  
How did Harry manage to find his room, much less break the two seals to enter? How did he find Peter, and then know to hide him in his pocket? How did Peter's body burn, as if someone had poured scalding metal in his blood?   
  
But sometimes, he couldn't bring himself to care.   
  
Sirius rested his arms on the bed, lightly smoothing out Harry's messy locks. But the child made so sign of having noticed him at all, eyes peacefully closed without stirring or making a sound. He was trapped in an almost coma-like sleep, drained by excessive blood loss. He seemed so small and vulnerable, hardly the child who defeated Voldemort and somehow managed to give him freedom.   
  
Suppressing a sigh, he moved to the edge of the bed, where the mattress was beginning to get indented from his frequent sitting. Brushing back a few stray locks of Harry's unruly hair, his hand traveled to the child's neck. A faint scar, thin and jagged, carved from his ear to his collarbone in a mockery of yet another lightning bolt. Sirius gritted his teeth in the fresh wave of fury.   
  
The anger that flared, whenever he recalled the events of that day, never faded in intensity. The image of Harry, eyes wide and empty with blood pooling around his throat, was burned into the back of his mind, haunting him in dreams. He was itching to grind more shards of glass into Pettigrew's pudgy face. That rat deserved more than Azkaban for what he did to James and Lily, to Harry…   
  
Sirius inwardly sighed.   
  
No matter how many times Madam Pomfrey reassured him that Harry was fine, Sirius wasn't convinced. He found himself hobbling to the child's beside to check on him during odd hours of the night, a habit drilled into him after the week at the hotel. He practically lived on the chair beside his godson's bed. Gently, he lifted Harry's small hand and enfolded it in his own, something that he never really dared to do a week ago when the child was still painfully shy.   
  
The door creaked open, but Sirius didn't turn. Only three people knew about the secluded room, and he half expected it was the nurse telling him to return to bed.   
  
"I see you read the headlines this morning," Dumbledore said by way of greeting. He drew up a chair to Harry's bedside and sat, a sign that he was planning for a long visit and complete explanation.   
  
Sirius nodded impatiently, having gotten in the habit of conserving words to spare his raw throat.   
  
Dumbledore smiled knowingly, his blue eyes twinkling and looking as if he had grown decades younger. "You don't seem as excited as expected."   
  
Sirius sighed, but it came out more like a groan. "This room is getting to my nerves. Even if I'm not claustrophobic, I will be soon."   
  
Dumbledore's expression brightened even at his weak attempt at humor. "You will be able to walk through the school freely by tomorrow. Or maybe tonight, if the proper precautions are taken."   
  
Sirius nodded, thoughts drifting again. He seemed to be doing that a lot of the late: never quite able to focus on anything but his godson, and lately, his only friend. "Where's Remus?"   
  
"Sorting out some last minute affairs," Dumbledore said with an cryptic smile. "He's trying to regain possession of Black Manor, your Gringotts account, and settling some unfinished business. You could accompany Remus as he goes to pay your bills."   
  
Sirius' lip quirked in a slight grin. "I'll stay."   
  
He had spent well over six hundred pounds in medical supplies alone, not to mention the daily room service charges, phone charges, and hotel room fees. Remus was going to throw a fit.   
  
"What about the Dursleys?" Sirius asked, his thoughts drifting again. He spat out the name of Harry's relatives bitterly.   
  
There was a prolonged silence.   
  
Dumbledore's expression faltered and fell, the age returning to his wizened face. "There is very little I can do within the confines of the law. If we pressed charges, Harry would be required to stand in court. Do you really want to do that to him?"   
  
"No," Sirius said quickly, hand tightening firmly over Harry's. His gaze returned to the sleeping child, as if seeking and offering reassurance at the same time. "But they deserve to be punished for what they did to him."   
  
Dumbledore nodded understandingly. "I'm sure they will be."   
  
"He's been through enough," Sirius continued quietly. "He doesn't need to go through that again. He's just a child."   
  
A small cryptic smile spread over the wizened wizard's face, "Harry is a child. But he knows far more than we give him credit for."   
  
Sirius startled, a bit uneasy at the direction the headmaster seemed to be going.   
  
"Harry seems to know, or do strange things, doesn't he?" Dumbledore said in a tone that made his words more of a statement than a question.   
  
Sirius hesitated, feeling an odd urge to convince Dumbledore that Harry was only a normal six year old. But the past years had instilled an innate trust in Dumbledore, and he couldn't lie to the headmaster.   
  
"Yes," Sirius admitted quietly. "He found out who I was without being told, and what I was. I didn't ask him how he knew."   
  
The headmaster nodded as if he already knew the answer. "Harry's magic started manifesting itself far sooner and far more potent than I predicted it would. Those are signs of magical repression, when a powerful witch or wizard tries to hide magic because of domestic environments. It probably whiplashed and made him more powerful."   
  
"What are you implying?" Sirius couldn't help but ask. He had a vague idea Dumbledore was alluding to something, and was too impatient to hear him speak in small circles.   
  
"Harry is a very powerful wizard, not just for his age," Dumbledore said with a tone of finality. "There is so much that I am unsure of, but I can say with certainty, that Harry will be able to surpass me when he comes of age."   
  
Sirius sighed, rubbing his eyes harshly. He leaned against the bedpost, only mildly shocked at the news. "Harry always seemed really intuitive, but I always thought it was because he had premonitory abilities. But…" Sirius' voice drifted as his eyes strayed to the bed again. It hardly seemed possible that such a fragile boy could have such potential. But at the same time, he found himself suspecting it for some time.   
  
"Sirius, turn over Harry's hand."   
  
Sirius paused in bewildered, but under Dumbledore's insistent stare, loosed his grip on Harry's hand. "Is there something wrong?" he asked worriedly.   
  
"It's completely hidden, but in Harry's wrist, Fawkes left a feather," Dumbledore said with his characteristic calm. He treated the topic as if it was a daily, common occurrence. It took a moment for Sirius to fully interrupt his words.   
  
"He what?" Sirius turned sharply, expression dark with concern. "Will it hurt him? A phoenix feather is made of fire, and…"   
  
Dumbledore raised a halting hand at Sirius' acute reaction. "No, it won't harm Harry in any way. I'm certain about that. I cannot explain Harry's gift. Phoenix feathers were never documented to react this way; their only use is in wand cores and everlasting torches. I don't think I have a suitable explanation until we actually see the affects of it. Nevertheless, we should begin his magical education now, since he is exhibiting such strong signs of magic. He'll still attend Hogwarts when he comes of age, but he needs lessons now on how to control it."   
  
Sirius paused, absorbing the news with some amount of relief. He sank in another lapse of thoughtful silence. "It seems like everything happens to him. I just want Harry to have a normal life," he said finally.   
  
Dumbledore nodded, eyes brightening with a sort of veiled understanding. "I understand. But with Harry's past and his present reputation, that's impossible. I'm sure you'll try everything within your ability to protect him. You will be a very good guardian for him, Sirius."   
  
The headmaster stood slowly, and without speaking, drew a tightly rolled scroll from the folds of his robes. He held it with quiet reverence, laying it carefully in Sirius' hand. Curious, Sirius unwrapped it, drawing it under the light to read the words. He drew a sharp breath in surprise.   
  
"This…" Sirius turned to Dumbledore questioningly, but he had already left. He glanced back at the crisp sheet of parchment in his hand.   
  
_ … adoption forms…   
  
_ Sirius grinned.   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
Harry wasn't in this chapter much, was he? It's the closing chapter that ties up all lose strings, most of them I think. *sigh* The Dursleys got away butt free...   
  
the webpage got revamped! i took Sandrine Black and katie's advice to upload stories directly onto the page and add random ranting. It kept me up until 3 am but ack, what the hell. Oh, added an entrance page too, i got a little photoshop happy. go visit!   
  
PoM will be very, very delayed, but once I post, it'll post probably 15 pages. The problem with PoM is that it starts off slow and accerlates slow. It's not completely character development, don't worry. Some things are bound to happen. *cackle* It's plot line is about as straight as a pretzel.   
  
Light and dark symbolism for the chapter 30... humm... it came out on its own. It reflects their mental state, and light actually reflects death. White is peace and innocence, but at the same time, lack of struggle for life. Darkness is guilt, anger, and resentment. There's some irony, but that came out spontaneously.   
  
I've always been having trouble writing Remus. He's terribly protrayed in PoM, but I can't figure out how to balance him with Sirius when it comes to Harry, because in that area, he gets screwed over. But in PoM, he's older and been through much more hardship. He seems like the type who just shuts off and withdraws when there's too much pain.   
  
A cliché ending, I felt like an idiot writing it. *sigh* And now for the sequel, where I will have tons of fun. The story is dark, rather unfortunately. Those who enjoyed WS might not like it so much, since its brutally violent. But its not rape! I can't write rape, since it sets up a completely different mood to the story when its incorporated. And I'm not very verstile...   
  
since WS is almost ending, thought I should reply to all the reviews...   
  
Peacockgirl - yeah! ffNET is still having issues... eh? Desperate measures? umm... it isn't anything like... voodooism, is it? Ack! I'll try and post fast!   
  
SheWho-Must-Not-Be-Named - post really quickly = every 2 to 3 ish days? Join Voldie? But what if he's... your father? You must not yield to the dark side! Okay... I'll stop. Your sugar high is contagious.   
  
Kay - eh? you can't update? What's going wrong?   
  
Nicky - yes! As always, I'm amazed by your observation skills. You always pick up on a lot of subtle issues when you review, it's very rewarding! The phoenix feather was absorbed; it plays a huge part in the sequel.   
  
summersun - Remus had some of the injuries transfered to him. Yeah, Harry came quite close to dying in the dream. I can see why its a twisted image though... although it sort of came as an inspiration watching these people swim. *sigh*   
  
Kit Cloudkicker - the cliffy isn't too bad, I hope. The PoM cliffys are worse by far. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!   
  
vmr - thank you!!   
  
Lynx - don't worry, they're all okay! Sort of cheesy though... *sigh*   
  
-_- - love the penname! XD Nah, if I was related to JKR, I'd cash in for it *cackles evilly* nope, I could do with a donation though *nudge nudge*   
  
kaydee - yeah, that seems to be happening: the longer the rant, the more insecure... Prepare for a 2 page long rant at the end, you gave me permission! Of course, I can't really rant individually for every chapter, although... yes! I read the story by eureka! I reviewed too, and the only stories I've reviewed are by Child of Two Worlds, Ari, IceAngel, and another one with a title I can't name off the top of my head. It's scary... need to review more... I'm glad you finally connected with Remmy here! He's easier to characterize in WS since he's younger and more compulsive, like the time he punched Vernon and then Sirius. In PoM, he seems almost harsh. eh...? How did you get those phobias? Bad experiences?   
  
Ruse - Yeah, Fawkes does seem to be used for the purpose. JKR will use him much more later though, but the name Fawkes is really misleading. Remus got drained by the connection he inadvertently gave them. Their connection's really important in the sequel! *cackles evilly*   
  
Otaku freak - There! What do you think? See, they're both alive!   
  
wellduh... - no, no, no, Remus is fine! Just a small bruise, see? The dreams were confusing... but blame Vernon hill for that!   
  
Kate Potter - they are! Sudden twist though...   
  
Rainbow - yeah, I know that feeling. *sigh* humm... I think I say ack whenever I'm insecure about a chapter... not a good sign... *hides*   
  
PVipertooth - thank you!   
  
AllAboutMe - it was really confusing, wasn't it? ack...   
  
Indiana Jones - eh? I'll try really hard to post the entire story before then! Or wait... was that a joke? umm... I'm really gullible... WS is my focus though, PoM takes about a month per update... sad isn't it?   
  
RavenLady - Remus was warned by the wards going off, only he had a larger reaction because he helped cast them and he has heightened senses. Were the last chapters really intense? I was worried they would fall short... WS doesn't have much action, all of the suspense and tension are internal. Did it seem okay, though?   
  
Fustrated - No, don't die! See? Here it is...   
  
Chrysta - nope. Peter has some determination, must have been his fat that saved him. *steps on the rat* he's really cruel in here, isn't he?   
  
stormyfire - thank you! I hope you enjoy this one...   
  
maraudermoony - I'm glad you liked it! uhhh... they didn't die. Although... *frowns suspiciously* what were your words going to be?   
  



	32. of creation, invention, and new horizons

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
prepare for a super long author's note at the end. This is the final closing chapter, not including the 2 epilogues at the end. Those don't really count as part of the story line though, just something done for fun. Thanks to everyone who read and enjoyed WS!!   
  
  
  
Of Western Stars By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter thirty-two - of creation and invention   
  
  
  
//\\ _  
  
On May 29th, an article that stretched over the entire front page of the Daily Prophet triggered an uproar in the wizarding community. Barn owls, tan owls, snowy owls dotted the open night skies, leaving muggle environmentalists to speculate habitat destruction was increasing owl activity. Dark cloaked people gathered in small corners, whispering, disputing, then outright shouting as they held the newspaper with shaking hands. The reaction came close to matching that of Halloween, five years ago.   
  
It wasn't that the news was as shocking as the downfall of the greatest Dark Lord in the history of the wizarding world. The news, compared to that, was quite ordinary. It was simply narrating the details of the trial between Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, quoted and supported with pictures.   
  
But after five years of unbroken peace, people had come to view any news relating to the Dark Lord was a sort of evil omen. And Sirius Black was certainly one.   
  
The people were horrified. Some were still in denial. Others were outraged. A select few smiled, claiming that they knew it all along. And a few more were simply confused.   
  
But compared to the second story, the first lost every significance.   
  
The Boy Who Lived was adopted. Adopted by the alleged murderer of his parents and thirteen others, and soon to be given a home by Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.   
  
Many were unsure of what to think. They had idealized Harry Potter so long that they never considered his family life. He was an idol, elevated to the position of someone untouchable, despite his age, and they never stopped to think that he was only a six and a half year old boy who needed a family, needed a bed, needed to sleep, eat, and play like any other normal boy.   
  
Some were doubtful. They questioned Sirius Black's trustworthiness, his innocence, and his ability to take care of any human being, much less a child. And the very few people who actually knew about Remus Lupin's condition were nothing short of horrified. All in all, only three people were truly happy for them, Arabella Figg, Minerva McGonagall, and Albus Dumbledore.   
  
_ \\//   
  
  
  
  
  
It was like claws were holding him down.   
  
He remembered hearing a familiar voice calling, but no matter how he fought against them, he couldn't move. He heard the person scream and shout, heard pounding above him that sent ripples through the air, urging him to struggle and tear away from the light. But he was so tired, and it was so difficult…   
  
After a while, the voice was gone, and he was alone in the blinding whiteness. The silence grew deafening, and Harry began to feel the flickers of panic. He had fallen to that silence countless times before: after Dudley had pushed him down the stairs, after he tipped Uncle Vernon's coffee over his suit, after the beating that sent him into Sirius' care. He used to relish that peace, but now, it frightened him beyond anything he remembered.   
  
Then, without warning, a searing heat on his arm burned into his skin, sinking like water seeping into a sponge into his flesh. As if the cloud dissipated around his body, the white water drowned into a pitch black at the blink of an eye, whipping around Harry ripping at the comforting numbness the light had offered him before. Harry gasped as a wave of biting pain assaulted his chest, clenching his lungs in an icy grip.   
  
Harry rasped dryly into his hand, an attempt to silence the raking coughs. His body was stiff, his throat on fire, and there was a sinking heaviness in his limbs that made his blood feel like lead in his veins. Harry trembled despite the warm weight that engulfed him, unable to ignore the sinking desperation that something horrible had just happened.   
  
Harry forced open his eyes in a desperate effort, blinking rapidly as cold air bit into his lids. He could barely make out the curve of a whitewashed ceiling overhead, grey in the dark room, and the soft covers tucked snugly around him. Harry frowned, struggling to recall how he came to be there, but the pervious dreams of the hollow brightness was slipping away like wisps of smoke.   
  
Memories returned to him in a suffocating wave of images. Of the rat morphing into a short, beady eyed man. Of Sirius, bleeding and dying, but struggling to stand. Then a icy fire rippling across his throat, and dry water drowning his lungs.   
  
Harry's heart leaped into his throat.   
  
Something happened to Sirius, Harry remembered with a sinking stomach. Harry knew, but didn't understand what happened. He knew that man that Sirius hated, and Peter tried to hurt him. But that wasn't on the surface of his mind. All of those confusions were overshadowed by a sinking fear in his stomach. Did Sirius leave? Did he die?   
  
Harry struggled to sit, straining his eyes through the surrounding darkness. His bed creaked as he moved, the white frame shimmering in the dark night.   
  
_ Sirius couldn't die, could he?   
  
_ Harry drew a shuddering breath, feeling a heavy weight wrap around his chest. Even the shock of drowning, suffocating, and choking faded at that fear. Sirius couldn't be gone like his parents, he couldn't be gone too! He was the only person that Harry felt at ease with, the only person who he trusted without reserve.   
  
_ Please, please, don't let Padfoot die! He'd go back to Uncle Vernon, if it just meant that Sirius was alive. Please…?   
  
_ Choking for breath, feeling his neck prickle and sting, Harry hauled his unresponsive body across the bed. He tried to drag his legs over the edge, but the surface beneath him felt unevenly swaying. He half stumbled over the edge and barely caught the wall for balance. The linoleum floor was slippery under his feet. With a muffled cry, Harry fell in a helpless heap on the ground.   
  
_ No, no, no, no, please… _   
  
  
  
  
  
A sound aroused him earlier than usual that morning, but after the years, Sirius had always been a light sleeper. When he struggled awake in the springy hospital bed, he was groggily confused to the room still dark, candlelight flickering off the walls. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes, he startled when he noticed Harry's bed completely empty, the blanket thrown haphazardly in a corner. Sirius jerked into a sitting position, searching the room desperately. A soft moan caught his attention. He nearly fell out of bed when he caught sight of a small form curled up on the floor, huddled on the linoleum in defensive ball.   
  
"Harry?" Sirius whispered incredulously. He scrambled to his feet, the surprise of Harry finally awakening overshadowed by concern.   
  
Harry moaned again, shivering. He was lying in just a thin set of hospital clothes; it must be flimsy in the chilly castle. His emerald eyes were glazed and unfocused, but clouded with a frantic glint. The dimly lit room was too dark for the child's poor vision; he held out his hands as if frenziedly searching.   
  
"Harry," Sirius breathed tightly, falling to his knees beside the child and catching a small hand. "What are you doing out of bed? It's freezing."   
  
Harry jolted at the touch, a shudder raking through his slight frame. He turned his face in Sirius' direction, opening his mouth soundlessly, but couldn't seem to find the words to speak. Harry's expression so muddled that Sirius couldn't even understand.   
  
Carefully, Sirius lifted the child, inwardly wincing when he felt how cold he was. He wrapped a thin sheet around him, hugging the child close for warmth. Sirius flipped back the warm covers of his bed to slip the child comfortably under snug blankets. Harry was still silent, but his emerald eyes never wavered from his godfather's face. But as Sirius began to draw away, Harry's hand reached out and grasped Sirius' sleeve firmly.   
  
The raw desperation in the child's eyes stayed Sirius in his place. Somewhere along the timeline of two weeks ago, Harry transformed from James son, to his godson, to a child, his child, who desperately needed his protection. It happened so quickly, or perhaps so subtly that he didn't notice until it completely sneaked up on him. Sirius lightly loosened Harry's hand and enfolded it gently in his own.   
  
"What's wrong? Saying something, Harry," he whispered almost pleadingly, moving to sit beside Harry on the thickly padded infirmary bed. There was a blankness in the child's emerald eyes that unnerved him, and Sirius wondered if Peter's actions was the final straw that cracked him beyond repair.   
  
Harry didn't stir, still gazing at Sirius as if he was the only person in an empty world. But when Sirius tentatively touched his cheek, the child's expression crumbled. Small arms latched around his neck, and a mass of dark hair blinded him.   
  
"You're still here. You're still here," Harry whispered, voice strained with a sort of desperation.   
  
Sirius hesitated at the six year old's abrupt gesture, and for a moment, stared mutely at the trembling child. Watching his godfather stabbed and almost killed was probably a painful blow, and the trauma of having his throat slit with a jagged piece of glass only fueled it. Sirius drew Harry in a loose hug; silently wishing he would hide him there forever. Harry had been through so much, too much for his young age.   
  
"Yes, I am. And I'm not going to go anywhere," Sirius finally said, running his hand through Harry's untamed hair in an action that seemed to comfort them both.   
  
Harry just shook his head, arms tightening around his neck. Sirius wondered what exactly he meant by such a simple action.   
  
Sirius swallowed uneasily, soothingly patting the trembling child's shoulders. "I'm sorry I scared you."   
  
Harry fell still, leaning stiffly his godfather with his face hidden in his shirt. He didn't make a sound for what seemed like hours; Sirius thought the child had sunk back into slumber. But when his breathing became raspy and erratic, his shoulders tensing with discomfort, Sirius became concerned.   
  
"Harry? What's wrong?" Sirius asked, gently prying his arms from his neck. He brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead, but Harry turned from the touch, burying his face against his shirt.   
  
The child's shoulders trembled again.   
  
"Are you hurt?" Sirius asked worriedly. "Do you feel ill? What is it?"   
  
Gently, he tilted Harry's chin up, and stilled, unsure of what to say. The child's emerald eyes were glazed with unshed tears; Harry seemed to desperately holding them back. Sirius' throat constricted at the sight. Harry never cried no matter how much he was hurt or how frightened he was; for him to be crying now must be like ripping away the frame that, for years, held together shattered glass.   
  
"It's alright," Sirius said as soothing as he could. He had no idea what was wrong, but didn't know what else to say.   
  
Those words of assurance seemed to have the opposite effect. The bundle in his arms shuddered violently, and tears cascaded down Harry's cheeks without restrain. But even then, he was silent and enduring, making no sound even as the tears streaked his face and stained Sirius' hand. Feebly, he tried to turn his face away.   
  
Sirius drew the child in a protective embrace, running his fingers through the windblown hair. But every attempt at comfort just made Harry cry harder. Soon, he was caught in a fit of full fledged sobbing, gasping his shirt sleeve distraughtly. His shoulders wretched and strained from the effort, and he coughed and hiccupped in between tears. Sirius whispered words of comfort, gently rocking the small child back and forth.   
  
"Please, don't leave… don't go anywhere," Harry rasped out between sobs.   
  
"I won't," Sirius whispered softly. "I promise this time."   
  
  
  
  
  
"Sirius?"   
  
Remus peeked from behind the door, a bit bewildered at the tense silence in the room.   
  
"Speak softly. He's asleep," Sirius whispered, not looking up.   
  
Those words must have make no sense to Remus, seeing that Harry had been asleep all week, but he didn't pursue it. Soundlessly, he moved into the room, sliding the portrait shut behind them. He smiled when he caught sight of his friend leaning against the headboard, with his godson resting peacefully against the crook of his arm. The bed wasn't wide enough to accommodate a six year old stretched horizontally across, and the blankets hung over the edge where his legs rested over the frame.   
  
"Did Harry wake up?" Remus asked softly, drawing a chair beside the two.   
  
Sirius nodded, still patting the child's back rhythmically in a calming lull. "He cried," he added, almost as an afterthought. "Harry never cried, no matter how much he got hurt. He never cries…" he trailed off, sinking back into a thoughtful silence. "He was afraid of being left alone."   
  
Remus countenance fell into a mixture of understanding, sympathy, and sadness. He couldn't hold his gaze on his friend's face without feeling a flicker of regret; dropping his head, he tentatively rearranged the blankets more around snugly the boy.   
  
"He's been alone for too long," Remus said finally. "But Harry has a family and a person who cares about him more than anything else in the world. He's going to be happy."   
  
Sirius nodded distractedly, still rocking the child gently back and forth. His hand tightening around the child's thin arm was the only sign that he heard at all.   
  
Abruptly, Remus smiled, leaning an elbow on the bed and resting his head on a hand thoughtfully. "It's his seventh birthday in two months. We should celebrate, make up for all those years we missed…"   
  
Rather than looking delighted, Sirius mood depressed even more. He sighed resignedly, twisting a corner of the blanket between his fingers.   
  
"What is it?" Remus asked, a bit caught off guard by Sirius' grim expression.   
  
"I was hoping we could celebrate his second birthday or something," Sirius mumbled. "He's growing up too fast. I wish we could spend more time with him before he grows up. Five years is too short, we should have at least ten."   
  
Remus paused; he understood the message behind his words. Sirius was still bitter about his five year imprisonment, and although he never mentioned it out loud, Remus knew that he always wished he escaped Azkaban earlier.   
  
"You shouldn't hang on to 'what if's,' Sirius. Think about now, the future, but don't linger on things that you can't change," Remus said quietly.   
  
Sirius lowered his head slightly, shoulders slumping. "I know, but…" He trailed off into silence.   
  
"What are you planning to do for Harry's birthday?" Remus asked with a rather forced smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.   
  
Sirius shrugged, looking a bit sheepish at having never considered it before. "I… I don't know. Probably take him to Diagon Alley. I was too preoccupied with the idea of moving back into Black Manor."   
  
Remus' grin widened, "When are you planning to move? The reporters are all desperate to know."   
  
Sirius didn't reply for several minutes, gently rocking the sleeping child. Slowly, an answering smile spread over his face, a bit sad and rueful, but a smile nonetheless. "I'll hex them if they try ask Harry anything," he grumbled. "As soon as that power grubbing woman lets us. We're going to hide out in the estate. Want to join us, Moony?"   
  
Remus sighed, grinning at the same time. The Black Estate was moderately sized, as moderately sized as magical residences were, buried deep away from civilization.   
  
Five years ago, the idea of Sirius locking himself up in the European wilderness as some sort of hermit would have been a laugh. But after being convicted, even with a crime he didn't commit, people would be suspicious no matter what the history books said, or how many times he proved himself. Sirius probably would never live a normal life until decades after his sentence.   
  
Harry would be completely bewildered by his celebrity and hero status. The child had suffered from almost an entire lifetime of neglect. With the media chasing him left and right, an incompetent minister out to use him as a stepping stone, people who almost hero worship him, Harry would be ripped apart the moment he stepped into the public. Harry couldn't live with that. He was far too young, far too innocent, far too timid.   
  
They couldn't be apart of either societies, magical or muggle. But Remus doubted that Sirius cared. His world consisted of only his godson and his friend, nothing else mattered in his mind. Sirius and Harry were in a world of their own creation, a haven that veiled them from the demons of the past. And to know that he was welcome in that sanctuary as well gave Remus a comfortable feeling of warmth that made the past five years seem like a distant dream.   
  
"Of course," Remus leaned back in his chair, pointedly glaring at Sirius. "Who else will keep the you in line? You'll spoil Harry rotten."   
  
  
  
  
  
//\\ _  
  
On May 30th, a picture that spanned over half the front page of the Daily Prophet baffled, alleviated, and angered many.   
  
It was a picture centered on two people, clad in bleached clothes of the hospital white, looking flustered and cornered, having just left the Hogwarts infirmary. Sirius Black, pale and thin from his five year imprisonment and two weeks of emotional strain, knelt on the smooth brick floor. Despite the weariness in his countenance, he still had the gleam that betrayed his young age, and clear blue eyes of flaming intensity. He glared out from the picture as if trying to bore holes through the reporter's head, protectively clutching against his shirt a small bundle drowned in oversized clothes. Once in a while, the slight form would tremble, and burrow deeper in his shoulder, revealing tendrils of untamed black hair.   
  
Sirius turned from his glaring, eyes softening as he watched the child, shifting so that he veiled him completely from prying eyes of the cameras. His mouth formed words that must have been soothing reassurances, because the dark haired boy relaxed and lifted his head timidly. Harry, far from the image of a boy of perfections, looked four instead of six, and had the gaunt appearance of someone recently recovering from a deathly illness. He so pale that the blended in with Sirius' white shirt on the poorly printed newspaper. His large emerald eyes darted between his godfather, and the swarming crowd, and abruptly latched onto Sirius' neck again. A sleeve of his large shirt pulled away, exposing an unhealthily thin arm that spoke of years of mistreatment in his relatives' care.   
  
More cameras flashed.   
  
Sirius turned his back completely to the obtrusive reporters, lifting Harry with ease. He rubbed the small child's back comfortingly, at the same time, slapped aside a hand of a reporter that came too close. A lanky figure with gray eyes, and light brown hair shoved his way into the picture with difficulty. Remus stopped beside them and spoke mutely to Sirius with concern. Taking off his cloak, he draped it over them both, and escorted Sirius by the elbow against the impeding crowd. Pushing the desperate people back with unnatural strength for someone so emaciated, Remus led them both from the picture frame.   
  
People were unsure what to think. Those who still had doubts of Sirius Black's innocence were alleviated, while others claimed that it was a purposeful display of deceit. And with the young boy so obviously attached to his godfather, people questioned whether it was wise to leave him in the influence of someone like Black. Even if he was innocent, he still had five years of Azkaban overshadowing him.   
  
But whatever the response against the three people were, they didn't know and didn't care.   
  
On May 31st, exactly five years and seven months after Voldemort's downfall, Harry Potter went home.   
  
_ \\//   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
The end   
  
I am going to refrain from ranting; that'll destroy the mood. *grins* But it felt like I was eating cheese when I reread it.   
  
I just destroyed the chessily fluffy mood. Anyway… Originally, I had the last chapter planned for Vernon torture, but then changed my mind. It would be weird, after chapters of Sirius, Harry, and Remus to suddenly turn to something as insignificant as the Dursleys… they're insignificant! They should be ant food! Ahem… anyway… they're not actually that bad in the books. It's just in WS, as an AU, the Dursleys' evilness was sort of cranked up a notch. Okay, fine… several notches. In the book, they weren't that bad… (wait, I take that back). Although, in book 2, they did go out of their way to starve Harry. It's hard to say, there are so many contradictions in the Hp books. Humm… I'm going off topic.   
  
Hopefully the development of the godfather and godson relationship made sense. From when Sirius took Harry out of the Dursleys care to the time Remus found them, Harry had to advance from being afraid and distrustful of every adult to completely attached to his godfather. It took a lot of crawling slow chapters, but I really wanted to establish something substantial. Did it make sense? Was it believable? Did it seem jerky and fragmented? 'cause those chapters were suppose to be the foundation of this entire story, and if I screwed that up, WS is basically… umm… the leaning tower of pisa.   
  
Remus isn't Remus-ish, but hey, he is about seven years younger, and that makes a huge difference. He's not quite as cool and composed as in PoA. Plus, he just came really close to losing everything all over again, so that cracked some shells. He was never that composed in WS to begin with, considering what happened with the soccer / football practice in which he was ready to strangle some little kids. PoA's Remus would have been smiling the entire time, but WS' Remus was wringing his instructions book to death. But ack… hopefully, it's still believable.   
  
Epilogue, I only have 2 chapters planned, but stuffed so many details in the last one that it feels like an undersized burrito with too much filling. Well…   
  
Ack. Now I'm hungry.   
  
Considering how desperately I want to get into the sequel, I might combine epilogues. They're already really long individually though, so it might be about 15 pages long.   
  
So much for attempting to bring the story around full circle. *sigh* This only ties up in a circle with a tail. The birthday reference, remember Harry's dream in chapter… umm… 20ish? He dreams about Sirius leading him through the streets in Diagon Alley and asking him what he wants to his birthday. That was actually a reflection of the future.   
  
I hope you all enjoyed it despite those flaws…   
  
As promised, a long rant of WS *kaydee gave me permission!* Only now, I forgot what I was going to say. Urg. The 2nd chapter of PoM was undoubtedly the worst chapter, and as for the best, donnuo, I suppose I could rate them on which one was the most fun to write. That would probably be chapter 3. The middle had a few repetitive scenes since I tried to tell it through a more dynamic point of view by writing a scene from both Sirius and Harry's point of view. It was more for practice than anything, but I went a bit overboard 'cause they all got crammed into the story. Through the middle, I almost added Snape to it, who would undoubtedly drive little Harry against the wall and Sirius to punch him, but I have a lot of trouble balancing a large cast. *sigh* it's a stupid habit. The ending of WS was almost going to be a remake of the Sorcerer's stone, only set in the Chamber of Secrets (it's complicated, I don't know what I was thinking then), but it didn't fit. *sigh*   
  
It's so tempting to add a sequel that takes place in school year with the new, more powerful, creepily disturbing Harry through school, but there it really doesn't go with my style… All my stories have a compressed time frame no more than one month long, so it'll be hard… not to mention torture for all of us. As a result, Clawtrack of a Star doesn't actually take place during his school year, but the months prior. And, once again, the time frame is very compact. This story has a violent and bitter edge to it, it's very fast paced and has more of a plot than PoM and WS. But humm… I should probably drop some clues. So anyway, I'll give you keywords: Sirius, Harry, Remus (obviously), Voldemort, Death Eaters, betrayal, death, regret, guilt (*sigh* it's a reoccurring theme), Peter, and James.   
  
It was sort of tempting to write a fic where Sirius raises Harry from birth, but I sort of wanted to establish a kind of trust between them. Harry, after all his experiences, would be a lot more attached to his godfather. To have a child knowing nothing but torture and hell for the few years of his life, and suddenly be rescued from it by someone who loves him more than even himself, he would naturally be very attached. Plus, he'll be the closest to the Harry now, selfless and foolishly brave, but with a bitter and angry edge (a bit of a Gryffindor and Slytherin). As hateful as the Dursleys are, they are still very important in shaping Harry's character. Plus, Remus was fun to manipulate. *cackle* Also, it's only fair for Sirius to earn the trust… in other words, Sirius torture, which is always really fun. But… *ahem* moving right along…   
  
Once again, I hope you all enjoyed WS despite how slowly crawly the plot was, or how creepy Harry was, or how evil Wormtail was, or how many times the poor kid passed out. *grins*   
  
BabyGirl76705 - Sirius does seem a bit different from the books, but he seems better this way. He can't really treat a 6 year old Harry like the 13 year old Harry. In Clawtracts of a Star, Harry is ten, I'm not quite sure if he should be 9 or 10, though. Ack... still debating. I'm glad you like all three stories, thank you so much for taking your time to review!   
  
kaydee - Ack, this author's note is about two pages long. you're going to kill me at the extent I bashed, but you gave me permission!! It's not fair… well, I didn't bash too badly, I forgot what I was going to say for most of it. *sigh* look what you did! First, you gave me the ranting virius, and now... *sighs again* humm... escape plans from a trex? Wait, you made escape plans from a trex? It could come in handy though, if you were ever under attack from something like... an elephant or a kangaroo. You know, I got pounched on the constrictor snake in science once, it was this three foot long albino who was on steriods or something. Either that or really hungry... *sigh* but snakes a fascinating creatures. Am I ranting again? *bangs head against table* humm... now that you mention it, Hermione's domestic life is really down played. Perhaps JKR is saving something shocking about her, like... maybe she's distantly related to Riddle! Her worst fears were never revealed though. That would have been interesting. I read your review in PoM, and humm... kaydee = accident prone... eek! Running headlong into a brick wall sounds painful. Did you kill the bee for revenge in the end? I have never broken or sprained any bones, but I keep catching weird diseases. Which is strange 'cause all my stories have someone spilling their guts out with lots of pain descriptions... *sigh* its hypocrisy, isn't it?   
  
stormyfire - really? yay, that's great to know! but i shouldn't be cheering when someone's crying... ack! *offers tissues*   
  
Lily of the Valley - I have been meaning to check out your story! I will as soon as I finish up WS, which should be sometime before the end of this week. Ack, that's a stupid habit of mine, when I write, I can't read, or else I start absorbing the stuff I read like sponge and leak it in my writing. I know what you mean by writing in bursts though! I do that too, and when the burst begins to fade, I go back and reedit. Its amazing how you don't need drafts though! I usually do several, but that's being paraniod. Sometimes, I write out of instinct and its great, other times, it's junk. Like there was about two chapters in PoM that got completely deleted because of that. I hope you enjoyed WS though!   
  
Anoriel - nope, there're 2 more epilogue chapters coming soon!   
  
oceansun - thank you!!   
  
wellduh... - I will! Hopefully, you'll enjoy it as much as WS!   
  
Japangirlcarley24 - I'm sure there are a lot of other great stories that are better than this one, but its great that you enjoyed WS so much. Thank you! I'm very flattered!   
  
Lost Book - ack, sorry! My chapters are beginning to get longer though, and the sequel has longer chapters.   
  
Kate Potter - yeah, they will be very happy with each other, especially after what happened. Sometimes, I almost wish Harry would stay 6 years old for life... *sigh*   
  
Kim - there're 3 versions of the chapter? really? I didn't know that. What happened?  
  
Kit Cloudkicker - well, there are 2 epilogue chapters about the time Harry moves into his new home, and a month afterwards. The sequel will be really fun to write!   
  
FatnSassyQuattaHoss - very neat pen name! yeah, Harry's been through a lot! But he's going to be happy.   
  
Super saya-jin Gotan - it actually takes place before Hogwarts, during the winter. But yes, some Weasleys will be there, not sure about Hermione though.   
  
Sarasi - thank you! I hope you'll enjoy the sequel too!   
  
Jrizx - thank you so much!! I'm flattered!   
  
illustrious sorrow - umm... CD sorta died, didn't it? Which is sad 'cause I have the ending all written out. Urg, don't worry, it will be finished. As for PoM, well, hopefully, that will be finished. It's wavering. Don't be angry!   
  
Phoenix - thank you!!   
  
smile7499 - *grins* that's great you're enjoying it! Harry and Sirius deserve a happy ending.   
  
Mayleesa - yeah, everyone did really hate me for chapter 28 *grins* very misleading at the events that occurred. Evil, wasn't it? Especially since ffNET died too...   
  
Fustrated - of course you won't die! Of course, if you did, that wouldn't be my fault... right?   
  
Eclectic Angel - it shows very obviously in the sequel, but the phoenix feather in Harry's arm does a lot of things for him that wouldn't normally be possible.   
  
YouDontEvenWantToKnow - very interesting pen name! Is this considered as a fast update?   
  
Kaylin - that sounds fun! Where did you go?   
  
Donja - was it? I thought it was Omi from WK 'cause he lost his memory when he got kidnapped. I can't remember, ack...   
  
Chad-Pendragon - thank you!! I hope you enjoy PoM and CD just as much as WS. WS is by far the most descriptive of the three though, and thank you for reviewing so many chapters and the guestbook! *offers a... box of cookies?* Wow, your cat's name is lucifer? And your penname is catsmeat? umm... you're not... eating your cats, are you?   
  
Indiana Jones - oh, ouch. No computer? How do you live? Well, I'm posting quickly so you'll have a chance to read the sequel by Sunday! I'll see if I can squeeze everything in...   
  
maraudermoony - thank you! happy endings are always so fun... of course, evil endings are even more fun but they seem so cruel.   
  
PViptertooth - thank you so much!!   
  
Puddles - eh? Harry tried to eat Peter? When? Where? Why? Ack!   
  
Ruse - everyone wants more PoM, but that fic is like a sink hole with spikes for me! *sigh* I have up to chapter 13 written, but it's horrible! They're all being reedited, and for now, WS' sequel is my focus. *sigh* people are going to kill me when I put PoM back on hiatus. *hides*   
  
Rainbow - you're working on a fic? What'll it be about? Tell me when you post it and I'll be sure to check it out! A career in writing... that'll be really neat! But I'm such a horrible essay writer, it's not even funny.   
  
serena cherry - wow, thank you! I'm glad you liked WS so much!   
  
Padfoot, Moony, Prongs 4ever - I will! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!   
  
Sandrine Black - well, there's this, which is techniquely the end, but there are 2 more epilogues on the way. Thank you for signing my guestbook!   
  
The Unicorn Whisper - wow, I'm flattered! I've been reading your stories too and enjoyed them immensely, except I have a really bad habit of not reviewing... *hides* It was a great surprise to see that you've been reading my stories. I'm glad you like the way Sirius was protrayed! He seems really different from the books though, but he was really underplayed. *sigh* JKR needs to give us more Sirius. humm... the sequel. Well, the plot for the sequel can actually stand alone without WS, but it borrows the character relationships. Beyond that, they have very little in common, but I hope you'll enjoy that too!   
  
Otaku freak - thank you!! yeah, Harry will be very happy, and so will Sirius and Remus. It was a big turn from what happened in the beginning, wasn't it?   
  
Nicky - humm... I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote that passage in PoM. I guess it could be because Remus was so preoccupied by the thought of Harry spending his last year in the orphanage rather than his experience with Voldemort. Voldemort seems very much ignored, isn't he? humm... ack, a horrible mistake. In PoM, Remus is harsher though. With what happened when Harry disappeared, he was affected to. He responded by shutting himself off emotionally, whereas Sirius sort of locked himself away. Urg... should have addressed that in the fic though. As for the sequel, well, it is sort of a Sirius and Harry story, but... umm... it's hard to describe without giving away the plot. You'll see by WS's sequel chapter 5.   
  
Lady Foxfire - he will, see? Everything worked out great for them both. *sigh* I wish JKR let Sirius out of Azkaban earlier...   
  



	33. epilogue 1: of home comings

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter thirty-three - of home comings (epilogue part 1)   
  
  
  
"Hey, Harry, wake up," Sirius whispered, lightly shaking the small child drowned under hospital sheets. It was still dark in the middle of the night, and he felt slightly guilty for cheating Harry out of a peaceful sleep.   
  
Harry made a small sound of protest in the back of his throat, but obediently opened his eyes. "Padfoot?" he asked groggily.   
  
Sirius grinned with suppressed excitement, throwing off the covers and wrapping a thick cloak around the child. "Come on, get up. We're going home today."   
  
Harry's eyes widened in the dimly lit room, a mix of fear, surprise, and hope drifting across his face. "Home?" he echoed.   
  
  
  
  
  
The living room of the Black mansion came back into focus with a sudden lurch. It was dustless and immaculate, lit by a single flame floating in the center of the room. Remus had left it for them after taking on the job of readying the house by himself. He was scheduled to portkey to his new home with his luggage the next day.   
  
The thick carpets and mahogany carvings, the tall ceiling charmed with the canopy of a forest path, the grandfather cloak, now quiet from the passing of time, brought a wave of nostalgia that caught Sirius unexpectedly. He stared at the empty divans scattered around the low table, almost expecting James to dart from behind one of them, or Lily to fold her arms disapprovingly but hiding an amused smile all the same.   
  
A light brush on his hand scattered those images.   
  
Sirius shook those memories away, turning his attention back to the slight weight in his arms. Clear green eyes stared back at him searchingly, almost like the lingering presence of his parents. For a moment, he almost lost himself in the past again, as he pulled the child close and rested his chin on Harry's unruly hair. Those memories had passed, the people were gone, there was a more important person to think about now.   
  
"What do you think of your new home?" Sirius asked. Carefully, he placed the child on the ground, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder when Harry swayed dangerously. The previous injuries were still eating away at him, and he was never really able to shake off the damage the excessive bleeding did to his body.   
  
Harry was silent. For what seemed like hours, he just stared at the ceiling, at the divans, at the rug beneath his feet. He turned back to his godfather, gripping at his sleeve desperately.   
  
"This is home?" Harry's voice was dazed, as if fearing everything was a dream that would dissipate in minutes.   
  
Sirius nodded, kneeling down beside him. "Do you like it?"   
  
Harry was speechless again, swallowing repeatedly. He seemed fearful of even touching anything, standing stationary.   
  
"What is it?" Sirius asked, concerned.   
  
Harry stiffly shook his head.   
  
Sirius inwardly sighed, carefully lifting his godson again as he made his way to the staircase. "Let's go look at your room, okay?"   
  
That was a bit of a trip to scout down Harry's room in a mansion that size, and he had no idea which one Remus chose. But as he passed his stray door on the second story, a shimmering placard caught his eye. Sirius grinned in amusement.   
  
"Remus gave you my old bedroom," Sirius mused, pushing open the heavy mahogany door. He would need to cast a weightless charm on it later, otherwise, Harry would be trapped in his own room.   
  
The bedroom was unchanged since Sirius last remembered it, before he moved out of the house. A king sized four poster, in the center of the room. Red and gold overhangs, that he transfigured after being sorted into Gryffindor. The only difference was the spotless floors, which he would always litter with socks, books, and various items that drove the house elves crazy.   
  
"What do you think?" Sirius asked, probing the child lightly on the arm.   
  
Harry peeked over the fringe of his collar, eyes widening again as he took in the seemingly colossal room.   
  
"This is…?" he swallowed nervously, unable to continue as his eyes traveled through the red and gold tinted expanse.   
  
"Your bedroom," Sirius finished encouragingly. Smiling widely, he set the six year old on the thickly carpeted floor. "Go on," he said, giving Harry a small nudge when he was too stunned to move.   
  
  
  
  
  
Harry was stiff, looking out of place in his tattered, oversized clothes in a place that was even larger than the Dursley's living room. Haltingly, legs still weak from the numerous escapades, he took several steps towards the wall, examining the velvet overhangs, deep red ceiling, and rich carpet that swallowed half his foot at every step.   
  
This was his room? Harry hardly dared to believe. He never asked for this much. All he wanted was to live with his godfather; he could sleep on the floor and still not complain. But this… Everything seemed so intricate, so delicate, so expensive. He couldn't possibly deserve this. He'd ruin it.   
  
"But…"   
  
"But what?" Sirius asked gently, kneeling beside him and peering into his face with concern.   
  
"But… is it really okay?" Harry worriedly asked. "What if I break something? You'd be angry! I… it can't be mine!"   
  
Sirius' expression fell, his previous happiness shattered. Harry desperately wished he could take those words back, but those fears spilled from him before he could hide them. To be such a burden, Harry wanted to disappear. He shook his head, edging towards the door fearfully.   
  
"Harry, that's not true. I will never be angry with you," Sirius whispered, giving the child's shoulder a small squeeze of assurance.   
  
Harry turned towards Sirius questioningly, silent wondering what he should do. He couldn't possibly be allowed to touch anything, much less sleep on the bed. Sirius only smiled encouragingly at him. Harry chewed his lip nervously.   
  
As if reading his mind, Sirius placed a gentle hand on the child's arm, supporting and reassuring him at the same time. "Harry, you deserved this long ago," Sirius pushed a tendril of hair out of Harry's face, brushing it over the scar on his forehead. Grinning brightly, he half carried half guided Harry to the center of the room. "Look around and tell me what you think."   
  
Impulse led him to dark corners. Harry made his way slowly to the closet. Having spent the majority of his life residing in a cupboard under the stairs, he naturally assumed he'd be sleeping there. The large four poster bed was too grand; it had to be for someone else, not him. Harry would feel uneasy even touching it. He slid open the closest door tentatively.   
  
It was like a small room in Harry's eyes, nearly as large as Dudley's second bedroom. Boxes littered the space in stacks, large paintings leaned against the walls. Robes of all colors hung neatly in a row, next to a pile of forgotten books.   
  
There were no blankets, but the carpet was so thick that it cushioned his feet like a mattress. Harry sank to the floor in exhaustion, sighing softly in relief as the strain left his throbbing and sore limbs. He had been so tired since he awoke in the infirmary with a sore neck and parched throat a week ago. It was as if an incessant weight hung from his body, dragging him down as he walked. He was so tired…   
  
After being torn from his bed at the dead of the night, Harry could feel his eyes sting in weariness. Hugging his knees against his chest with a habit ingrained in him years ago, he curled up in a small lump on the closet floor.   
  
"Harry, what's wrong?" Sirius warm tone drifted sluggishly to his ears, and Harry opened his eyes to see his godfather's worried face staring down at him. Sirius knelt down, placing a hand lightly on the child's forehead. "Are you in pain? Does your leg hurt?"   
  
"No, I… I was going to sleep…" Harry timidly murmured, impulsively grasping the edge of Sirius' sleeve with his hand. It was a reflex that stayed with him, and Harry wanted to reassure himself that his godfather was really there beside him, not dead, gone, or abandoned.   
  
Sirius' brow furrowed slightly in confusion for a moment, but realization crashed like bricks over his face and his expression contorted into a mixture of guilt and anger.   
  
Harry tensed, "Sorry, I…"   
  
"No," Sirius cut in, making an obvious effort to sound reassuring. He gathered the child from the floor in one fluid motion, carefully wrapping an arm around the small boy's shoulders as if holding fragile glass, lightly running his fingers through Harry's untamed hair. "Don't be sorry, you never did anything wrong. Don't ever be sorry, okay?"   
  
Harry was silent, his face buried against Sirius' shoulder, unsure of what to say.   
  
Sirius abruptly grinned, as if trying to lighten the mood. "Don't lie down in the closet, there's nothing in there yet. Here's your bed."   
  
Harry could feel him lightly ruffling his hair before he was placed on something thick and soft. Harry tensed, feeling the thick velvet of the bed sheets beneath his hands. They were like the layers of laundry that Aunt Petunia always asked him to wash. He remembered laying in the warm, crisp clothes after they just came out of the drier during the cold winters; they always got rid of the numbness in his hands and feet. She caught him once, and he never did it again. Harry peeked through the folds of Sirius shirt at the vermilion dyed sheets.   
  
"This…" Harry swallowed, staring at the thick blankets with wide eyes.   
  
"The closet has all my old things, and I doubt you really want them," Sirius continued, smiling reassuringly at Harry. He pulled back the bed sheets, smelling lightly of soap and rain, and carefully wrapped the child in its folds. "In a few days, Moony and I are going to buy you some clothes. Do you want anything? Books? Toys? What do you like?"   
  
Harry let his head drop, gaze downcast, his throat suddenly constricted. Sirius was always doing something for him, helping him sometimes in ways that exacted a toll on himself. He always did everything within his power to make him happy, but that left a biting sense of guilt on the child. Harry desperately wished he would ask for something in return just so he could repay the lifetime worth of dues he owned his godfather.   
  
There was a rustle of fabric as Sirius sat beside him, and Harry could sense him frowning worriedly. Compulsively, Harry stumbled forward and hid his face against Sirius' shoulder, arms tightly latching into his neck. It was an abrupt action that surprised them both, but Sirius smiled and soothingly rubbed the child's back.   
  
"What is it, Harry?" Sirius softly asked, resting his cheek against the child's unruly hair. "You're so quiet today."   
  
Harry tightened his clasp around his godfather's neck, burying his face against the soft fabric of Sirius' infirmary shirt. "Thank you," he whispered.   
  
  
  
  
  
Remus had to smile as he cracked open the door to Harry's bedroom. Harry's small form was a small lump under the blankets, curled in a snug ball with the covers spread lightly over his shoulders. He was lying haphazardly, using his pillow as a bed with his head on his godfather's shoulder. Sirius' hand was on the child's back in a gesture that seemed to be reassuring to them both, propped up against the headboard in awkwardly. His posture was obviously uncomfortable; he seemed to have fallen asleep without actually meaning to, sitting over the covers with only the wall keeping him from toppling over.   
  
Remus shook his head with a sigh, but smiling nonetheless. Soundlessly, he dropped his luggage at the door and made his way into the room. He tapped Sirius lightly on the arm -- he was going to wake up with a major backache if he kept it up any longer -- and then shook his shoulder when he still didn't stir. Sirius was usually a very light sleeper, but that afternoon, he stubbornly refused to wake. He only batted away Remus hand and turned away, sinking deeper into slumber.   
  
Only to almost slip off the bed in his awkward position. Sirius blinked awake with an abrupt jerk, groggy and sluggish.   
  
"Wha… Remus?" Sirius mumbled, lifting an arm to rub his eyes and grimacing when his back cracked audibly.   
  
"Softly, Sirius. Harry's sleeping," Remus whispered, gesturing him to be silent.   
  
Sirius nodded groggily, and Remus wondered if any of his words made it to his brain. His friend straightened slowly, careful of the slight weight against his shoulder, and winced as a distinct crack echoed through the room.   
  
"Ow," Sirius made a face, rubbing at his neck gingerly.   
  
"You've been sleeping against wood all night," Remus whispered, picking up a small cushion from the chair and placing it behind Sirius' head. "You should put on son ointment if it feels really sore. Careful, Padfoot, you're becoming an old man." Remus grinned, unable to resist teasing him. His mischievous humor was returning around his friend, and combined with the occasion, it was too tempting.   
  
"Wazzat? Oh… shut up…" Sirius slurred out. "You're the one whose graying."   
  
"But the lower back pain doesn't reflect well on your age either, Padfoot," Remus retorted without missing a beat, seemingly unfazed by Sirius' observation.   
  
It was amazing what a week could do to patch up old grievances. Through the misunderstanding of five years and the bitter first meeting that followed, all of that seemed almost insignificant after Remus' visits to the hospital wing. After the brief glimpse of how short and unpredictable life could be made the both desperate to rebuild his friendship with either misunderstood friends. Their friendship wasn't the same as it was years before, but considering the extent they both matured, returning to their Hogwarts days was impossible.   
  
Of course, right then, they were being anything but mature.   
  
Sirius shot him a glare, looking as if he wanted to sit up but thinking better of it last minute. Harry was still sleeping obliviously, head pillowed on his stomach. Sirius glanced around as if looking for something to throw at the slowly retreating friend. Thing only thing within flinging range was Harry's glasses, but he wasn't about to throw that at Remus. He settled on boring holes into Remus' head with his eyes.   
  
"I'm going to get you back for that," Sirius grumbled, keeping his voice low. "Be happy that Harry's asleep, or I'd be exacting revenge." The smile that quirked at his lips destroyed the effect of his words.   
  
"You shouldn't threaten someone who has considerately brought you food," Remus said with a rather pointed stare. "I sort of assumed you wouldn't be able to cook anything edible so I brought some breakfast."   
  
"You should have more faith in me! I took perfect care of Harry for a week," Sirius muttered, rubbing his neck where it laid over a lump. He was stiff after sleeping in an uncomfortably inclined position for several hours, and there was a crick in his neck that was a unpleasant reminder.   
  
Remus sighed. "Do you want to know how much money you spent on room service?"   
  
Sirius' expression melted into a slightly sheepish look, "Oh, that…"   
  
Remus grinned when Sirius made a face, feeling exultant but rather immature at the same time. He drew up a nearby chair, bending over the edge of the bed to peer at Harry; he looked snugly comfortable despite his awkward positioning on the bed.   
  
If Harry was awake, he'd be hiding behind Sirius in embarrassment, Remus thought with a small smile.   
  
"He looks younger," Remus whispered, tentatively brushing some strands of hair from the child's face. "I know it makes no sense, but… he does."   
  
Sirius' face softened at that. He ran his fingers through the unruly hair fondly, watching the child.   
  
"I know what you mean," he said after a moment of silence. "Sometimes, it's hard to imagine he's just a six year old boy, other times, it's hard to believe he's already six years old. He's been through so much, but he always manages to pull through. It's about time Harry can act his age."   
  
He broke off abruptly when Harry stirred, shifting slightly and slowly blinking awake. He took in his surroundings past half laden eyes, still bleary. He lifted his head, nursing a numb ear where it was squashed against Sirius' rib, hair rumpled in a flyaway angle.   
  
Sirius didn't wait for him to readjust; he ruffled the child's hair even more, smiling. "Hey, Harry, look whose here."   
  
Harry rubbed his eyes with his oversized sleeve, an action so childishly innocent that it made them both smile. His hand paused on an eye when he took in the blurry image of Remus, and suddenly meek and timid, slowly began edging behind his godfather.   
  
"Hello," Harry said very softly.   
  
Sirius smiled in amusement, "Harry, it's just Moony. You shouldn't be shy around him."   
  
Harry peeked over Sirius' arm at Remus nervously, and Sirius shook his head with a resigned sigh.   
  
Remus felt a flicker of regret as he watched him. The child was so deeply scarred after his years of abuse, he lost all faith in people. But Harry's attachment to Sirius ran deep; he was the only person Harry turned to. Remus often wondered what those first few days were like for them both, with Harry cringing and shuddering at every word and gesture, and Sirius mentally and physically shaken after five years of Azkaban looming over him. But Sirius must represent something remarkable to the child, after he had broken into the Dursleys at extreme risk to rescue him.   
  
Harry rarely spoke to anyone else other than Sirius. It wasn't that Harry didn't trust him, or Dumbledore, or Madam Pomfrey; he was just shy, and painfully so. Apart of it probably came from the shock of Pettigrew's threats, Remus mused bitterly. Harry's outburst in the hotel a week ago was forced from him due to the situation, and after that, barely said more than twenty words to Dumbledore. He hid behind his godfather every time Madam Pomfrey glanced his way, and Sirius had taken to fending off the nurse to spare him. Harry wasn't as timid around Remus, but he glanced at Sirius nervously whenever he spoke. Remus supposed that Harry's faith was hard to gain, and he had yet to earn it.   
  
Remus leaned against the edge of the bed, giving Harry a warm smile of comfort. "How do you like your new home?"   
  
Harry bit his lip, eyes traveling over his room almost nervously. He was still, as if fearing the entire thing was a distant dream, but at his godfather's inquiring gaze, lowered his head. Sirius and Remus exchanged knowing glances; Harry was so repressed that any word of assent or happiness was magnified several times over.   
  
"It's… nice," Harry said after a pause, a small and timid smile hidden against his godfather's shirt.   
  
Remus grinned, leaning on his elbows to give the child a small pat on the head. "You know, Harry, you spoke more to me when I was posing as Mrs. Figg's nephew."   
  
Harry flushed, small tinges of pink staining his unnaturally pale face as he shrank behind Sirius again. "Sorry…"   
  
"Remus, you're embarrassing him," Sirius drew the child in a loose, one-armed hug, a defensive reflex that seemed to be ingrained in his actions.   
  
Remus sighed, knowing better than to chide but still couldn't hide a rather exasperated glance Sirius' way. The godfather was so protective of the six year old that Remus was beginning to wonder if Harry will be sheltered for the rest of his life. The abused child needed that sanctuary, but at the extent Sirius defended him, he'd ever be able to understand the rest of the world.   
  
Sirius stubbornly stared back, as if reading his mind. He finally settled on ruffling Remus' hair for revenge, rumpling his light brown strands so it stood as wildly as Harry's did.   
  
"Hey!" Remus batted off Sirius' hand indignantly, making a face. He tugged at his disheveled hair, glaring at his friend. "That was uncalled for!"   
  
"Yeah, well, that was revenge for calling me an 'old man,'" Sirius grumbled with a rather smug grin.   
  
Remus glowered, but swallowed his next retort when he noticed Harry watching them both in puzzlement. His emerald eyes were wide, and they darted between Sirius and Remus uneasily, unsure whether his two guardians were truly angry or not.   
  
"Old man…?" Harry echoed curiously, looking up inquiringly at his godfather.   
  
Remus choked back a spurt of laughter, coughing discreetly into his hand. He had to duck his head to hide a smile when Sirius turned a heated stare his way.   
  
"Yeah, that's what Padfoot is." Remus grinned mischievously when Sirius' jaw dropped.   
  
"He… he is?" Harry asked, bewildered. The child seemed to be actually considering Remus' words.   
  
Sirius inwardly groaned, but he forced his expression into one of a rather strained calm. He covered the six the old's ears as if trying to hide him from those statements. Harry was still innocently oblivious, completely perplexed by the odd exchange.   
  
"No, Harry, Remus is in denial that he's an old man and is trying to shove the blame on other people," Sirius muttered, his glare promising Remus many threats of retribution in the near future.   
  
Harry blinked. "He is? But aren't you both the same age? Does that mean you're both old men?"   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
A really strange note to end on, isn't it?   
  
This epilogue just gave me so much trouble, I have no idea why. It was mostly because of the last scene though, something about it just feels… off. Maybe it's just because it feels more lighthearted than the rest, but it was just… weird. Remus seems too... happy, although he does have a reason to be. He just doesn't seem Remus like, but then... well, he is a lot younger. *sigh* donnuo, tell me what you think!   
  
Lily of the Valley - humm... I should have kept the Land of the Dead scene then? I was sort of afraid it was too much like CD, and that scene takes a lot out of the sequel, but humm... *cackle* we're all so mean to James, or we like to be mean to James. What is Twisted Reality about? DROP CLUES! I'm dying here! We have to keep you from reading new fics so that your muse will be on a constant one story mode! Concentrate on CoS? Does that mean I'm allowed to put PoM on hiatus? *large grin*   
  
Kaylin - you visited the Oregon coast? How was it? Was the beaches there rocky or sandy? I hope you liked the drafts, however fragmented they were!   
  
Lavender Brown - humm... yeah, I see what you mean. Harry has been abused though, and children who grow up in these type of families are documented to have delayed development. ack, that makes Harry sound like he has damaged intelligence. Well, he's really shy...   
  
Bookworm12357 - *grins* glad you liked the joke! *cackle*   
  
... - thank you so much!   
  
Sakrchan - the drafts did get progressive sadder... ack! I donnuo! I have no clue why my stories are all so depressing! I don't even watch soap operas, just X-Files! Ack! *bangs head against table* I'm sorry, did they really make you cry? *buys lots of tissues*   
  
The Unicorn Whisperer - yay! Thank you! Everyone seemed to like the James section! Waah... maybe I should have stuck to it. *sigh* I hope you like this epilogue!   
  
Rainbow - *nods* yeah, the one with Remus hitting Harry was overboard. *sigh* I donnuo what I was thinking! James always seems to get the blunt in these stories *sigh* CoS and CD. WS isn't too bad, compared to PoM. You know, I have 15 chapters of that written, but I have 22 chapters of drafts. That story is such a pain!! Actually, not writing drafts is a good thing! It means your stories flow for you in your mind, and when it comes out on paper, it writes smoothly. So it's good that you don't need drafts for Out of the Night! Harp is a really uncommon instrument, but that's because the stinkin' thing is so annoyingly hard to transport! *sigh* Ack, Harry has brown hair in the fanart, but that's because I didn't want him to blend into Padfoot. It looks weird, doesn't it?   
  
Kaydee - ack!! The review died? Nooo! I can't read it then! *cries* will have to work off from summary, and then take the chance to reply to your CD review since I didn't get a chance. humm... The shopping scene was difficult though, since Harry techniquely wasn't suppose to be outside. But then again, that's the stupid biology book speaking. Shampoos to mask the smell of your dog... have you tried herbal essesnce? that stuff is so strong, it will mask anything. humm... onto your CD review. It's sort of debateable why Sirius escaped Azkaban, and I think it's because of Peter and Harry. Also since Sirius and Harry godfather godson stories are sort... what's a good word for it? And I love to think that Sirius escaped Azkaban for Harry, but then why did he escape only after seeing Peter's picture? He should have escaped earlier! *hits Sirius with a stick* Well, sort of, but I sort of used it as Sirius escaping for revenge because it adds to Sirius torture. It makes Sirius guilty for not thinking of Harry when he needed him. *hides* humm... as to how Harry will kill Sirius with his wand, umm... I donnuo! It just said in the book that Harry wanted to kill Sirius, I guess he could suffocate him or... I donnuo... Maybe he could try a severing charm right at his heart? humm... it would have been interesting if Harry actually did cast some sort of spell on Sirius, but that'll be evil. And then there's Lily, ack! *hides* everyone says she has red hair, so I sort of assumed. Plus, I wrote them back in May so... *hides* ack! getting grounded for dripping water over the floor... that'll be sad! I did get grounded for burning food once, humm... When does school start in Canada?   
  
Lizard - really? chapter nine was frightening? ack! Vernon is really evil, isn't he? He should have been tortured in this story, but he got away with everything. *sigh* the 'the end' joke was fun! Although, I shouldn't admit to that... *hides* Luigi's? eh? is that an anime character?   
  
CatsPaw - ack, really? Wow... that's a wonderful compliment, but I feel so evil at the same time. I'm so sorry for making you cry *buys tons off tissues* thank you for reading it!   
  
Centra-gal86 - thank you! I do have a lot of other fics though   
  
jeffo - thank you! I'll check out yours!   
  
Sara Minks - thank you so much! I'm glad you liked it!   
  
czelsee - I can't help it! Ack is... *sigh* maybe I should change my pen name to duck...   
  
Blizzard - thank you! Sirius and Harry were always my favorite characters, Sirius is so under represented by JKR *cries* I hope you like the epilogue!   
  
Allocin - you're back! *cheers* you collapsed at chapter 31? really? Wow, thank you! I hope you like the sequel!   
  
sven - thank you so much! That's a great compliment!   
  
Jade S - Harry was scary, wasn't he? He's like one of those creepy little kids that know everything, but look incredibly cute at the same time. Sirius and Remus are both such fascinating characters! It's great that this story made you like them even more! JKR needs more Sirius and Remus...   
  
psycho_setsuna - thank you! if you would like to see some more art, there's a little animated button that my cousin made for me. the pictures are by me, but she did all the computer work. it's on the cos page. i hope you liked this chapter!   
  
Moonywolf - I'd glad this AU made sense! Thank you so much for reading.   
  
LightFaerie - that's alright, it's great that you took your time out to review this. Thank you!   
  
august wynd - well, WS has a sequel, so it didn't exactly end just yet!   
  
Firestone - it does have a sequel! It's titled under Clawtracks of a Star, but it's very different from WS. I hope you like that too though!   
  
Essence of Magic - (reply to GI) thanks for your offer of critiquing! I don't have a beta reader right now (although looking at all my errors, I probably should). I'm sort of reluctant to get one because I have such erratic writing habits and bizarre mood swings, I'll probably drive you crazy. humm... lately I am having a lot of trouble with PoM, so if you're okay with really bad writing habits and hair tearing complaints and countless head banging, then... yeah. thank you so much for offering!   
  



	34. epilogue 2: of beginning anew

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer! This chapter specifically is dedicated to MeShelly, who took on the challenge and reviewed over half of Western Stars all in one day, and Kaydee, for her first day of school *cackles*   
  
Of Western Stars By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter thirty-four - of beginning anew   
  
  
  
*_one month later_*   
  
Remus apparated back to the Moor House, previously known as Black Manor, to the most sheltered position possible, his past attempts long since given him that astuteness. After popping twice into a middle of a tickle war between Sirius and Harry (which was always one sided and amounted to a serious victory) and becoming a victim (Remus, although appearances said otherwise, was horribly ticklish. Sirius was not, which he personally thought, was cruelly unfair), he had learned his lesson. Another time, he found himself right at wand point when Sirius was attempting to teach Harry a rather unflattering hex, but that he'd rather not recall.   
  
Remus stepped out of the broom closest, flicking some dust out of his robes and straining his ears for any sound. But the house was peacefully quiet; they must be outside.   
  
It took a week to finally convince Madam Pomfrey to release Harry from the infirmary. In the end, it was Sirius who gave the nurse more trouble than the six year old. Remus paused, unable to suppress an amused smile as he recalled the sight that met his eyes when he walked into the secluded guestroom.   
  
//   
  
_ "Would you stay still?" the ever-suffering nurse snapped, prodding Sirius none too gently on the arm. "I'm never going to be able to diagnose this if you don't!"   
  
"Would you keep your voice down?" Sirius grumbled, looking even more irritated than Madam Pomfrey. "Harry's sleeping, and he doesn't take to the idea of wands anymore after the incident at the hotel room."   
  
Madam Pomfrey sighed in exasperation, straightening. "Black, you are impossible to deal with. You obviously need treatment, but you completely refuse to take the potions!"   
  
Sirius rubbed his hand gingerly, grumpily eyeing the flustered nurse. "Potions? Since when did I get potions?"   
  
Madam Pomfrey pointed to a vial, filled to the brim with a blue fluid without answering.   
  
Sirius raised an eyebrow, throwing several worried glances at the sleeping form in a bed a few feet away. "That's mine? I thought that was for Harry"   
  
"What?! You tried giving that to the six year old child? This is for adults, not for a still growing child! You…"   
  
"No! Of course I didn't try to give that to Harry, knowing how…" Sirius seemed to bite back the word territorial, as it wouldn't go well on the nurse. "you are. I'm perfectly fine. How's Harry?"   
  
Madam Pomfrey folded her arms; Remus could almost see her narrowed eyes and thinned lips from the doorway. "Black, you have a one track mind! You're anything but okay. Exhaustion, malnourishment -- who knows what dementors could do to you for five years, those unhealthy and unsanitary creatures -- You need treatment right away. I'm amazed you can still walk with all the damage your body has taken. Now sit down!"   
  
Grimly and very reluctantly, Sirius sat again. Madam Pomfrey wiped her wand against her sleeve out of habit, making the tip glow faintly as she examined his eyes. But Sirius' line of sight kept darting to the bed beside his where Harry slept. The small form seemed to stir slightly, disturbed by the raised voices. The nurse finally sighed in exasperation, raping the godfather sharply on the forehead.   
  
"Stay still!"   
  
"Shh! Keep your voice down, he's waking up," Sirius whispered, raising a hand to his lips. He ducked under Madam Pomfrey's arm, and in two long strides, plopped himself back on the chair beside his godson's bed.   
  
The nurse visibly bristled.   
  
_ \\   
  
Sirius was so preoccupied by his godson, Madam Pomfrey couldn't treat him for more than fifteen minutes before he was already sneaking away. It grated the nurse's patience to no end, and drove Remus to cast the sleeping charm over Sirius more than once. That was the only way he could pry him away from Harry; Sirius desperately needed the reprieve. The six year old wasn't the only one who looked wasted. Sirius had been so pale those days in the hospital wing, he looked washed out, like skin stretched over a bag of bones. The five years of Azkaban plus two weeks of emotional exhaustion was taking its toll, but it seemed that everyone but Sirius realized how grave his condition was. It wasn't until Harry began voice his worries that he finally relented. But Sirius always placed himself as the lowest priority on his 'to take care of' list.   
  
When he managed to secure the house for the trio with Dumbledore's help, they all jumped on the opportunity to finally get away. Sirius moved back into his family mansion, large enough to house twenty people, and sneaked into it in the middle of the night to avoid prying reporters. Remus followed a day later, and they both settled as a makeshift version of a family. The money paid as retribution for Sirius' imprisonment was enough to support them for more than a lifetime, even at the squandering they were doing now.   
  
Remus found himself plastered with the job of a voluntary house elf, picking up after the two (Sirius was often the one he had to pick up after. Harry was meticulously neat and organized, but the child never had many possessions. The two guardians were still trying to stock up, but Harry always seemed embarrassed by their efforts). Sirius had given up the idea of real elves after a few glued themselves on Harry when they found out who he was, and nearly frightened the child to bits. That left Remus with all the work.   
  
He didn't particularly mind, though. Life was rewarding as it was, and he was determined to enjoy it while it lasted. The remaining marauders, plus a junior member (although this one didn't cause nearly as much trouble, and nor could they bring themselves to play pranks on the innocent little boy), fell back into the days before graduation, when Voldemort was nonexistent in their worlds.   
  
It wasn't like that they didn't change. Sirius was still Sirius, but he was no longer the reckless, rash teenager who refused to grow up. There was an air of aged maturity in his actions, but once in a while, he'd do something that would make Remus fling a hex his way. Whatever shadows Azkaban left on his life, he didn't show it. But with the kind of attention he paid James' son, Remus couldn't help but wonder if Harry was a sort of anchor, someone that kept him sane and tied him to reality.   
  
To Harry, he was somebody different altogether. Remus would often marvel at the facets of temperament that Sirius exhibited. One moment, he'd be screaming at some reporter through the fireplace, and the next, calm and comforting to his godson. He indulged the child with anything possible, and was even more overprotective than the most doting parent. Every morning, the first thing he'd do when he awoke was to peek into Harry's room. Every night, he wouldn't leave the six year olds bedside until he fell asleep. Remus was beginning to wonder what'll happen if Harry ever grew up.   
  
But for Harry, the adjustment was slow. The countless scars that laced his back was always a reminder of the events that occurred, and how much everyone suffered. The emotional scars, for a child so young, was difficult to heal. He no longer flinched at every touch, or whimpered from a raised voice, but sometimes, there was still darkness lurking behind the emerald pools.   
  
The Dursleys had neglected the child to an extent that it made Remus wish he had done more than just broke Vernon's jaw. Anything that would have avenged Harry, anything to free him from the past.   
  
After Harry was removed from his bandages and the bruises from his ordeals faded, old scars that had been hidden stood out with frightening intensity. A deep gash on the child's bony shoulder that was too long to be a belt or stick, a smooth ringed patch of skin on his arm that held alarming similarity to a burn from a muggle stove…   
  
It grated Sirius' restraint beyond endurance, and Remus suspected he was quietly gnawing away his patience for revenge.   
  
Harry lived in constant fear of having his perfect sanctuary torn away from him without a moment's notice. Harry had those nightmares frequently, and no matter how many times they tried to reassure him, he would still be haunted. After those dreams, Harry tagged behind Sirius so closely that he would have been knocked over if the older man wasn't careful. Sirius humored him in those times, and would carry the child around the house through the majority of the day.   
  
But the child was learning, slowly reacquainting himself with the new world he was given.   
  
Remus grinned when he recalled the time Harry snuck into Sirius' room in the middle of the night, during a thunderstorm, and crawled under the blankets. And the time he flicked a cherry at Remus for transfiguring Sirius into a stuffed dog (Harry always sided with Sirius in these matters. Remus always believed he was as attached to his godfather as Sirius was to him. But his actions were so restrained that everything Harry thought or said had to be read through his eyes. Needless to say, both he and Sirius were both becoming experts). They were small little things, but they still made him smile.   
  
Remus wondered if this was what parenthood was like. Sirius and Remus had two whole photo albums filled with Harry's pictures within the first month. It was unfair, in a way. James and Lily should have been able to enjoy it. But he never lingered on that thought for long, with a quiet six year old and loud twenty-five year old running through the four storied, twenty-two bed roomed house.   
  
Remus opened the front door and stepped into the grassy expanse, broken only by a few tall trees.   
  
The sound of a small child laughing.   
  
To see a little boy riding a dog like a strange undersized horse would make anyone start, but Remus only sighed and shook his head.   
  
Padfoot tore through the grass with Harry in tow, gripping at the fur to keep from flying off. The child was a light burden; despite all the weight he gained since his arrival, he was still disturbingly small for his age. The dog was taking obvious care not to jostle him too much.   
  
There were times when Remus wondered where he belonged between all this. But Sirius needed him as a friend, and through the years, he needed constant reminder of the present. Harry trusted him as someone uniquely him. Plus, Remus didn't completely like the idea of Sirius raising Harry by himself. It wasn't that he would be a poor guardian, knowing how much he loved the child, but he was still Sirius. He'd burn the house down just trying to cook.   
  
Padfoot bounded between trees, making the child grasp his glasses before they flew, before finally disposing Harry in a heap on tall grass. He scooped up a thick, oak branch, littered with teeth marks.   
  
Remus had to smile at the sight.   
  
Padfoot and Harry, engaged in a biased game of tug-of-war, was amusing no matter how many times the played it. The bear-like dog had already pulled the poor boy off his feet, and was proceeding to drag him across the grass. Harry shook his head, stubbornly refusing to relinquish it.   
  
Until Padfoot nudged him in the side with a paw.   
  
Harry broke down in a fit of laughter, dropping in the grass. Victorious, the dog nuzzled him again, and the child hurriedly tried to roll to safety.   
  
"No! Bad Padfoo…"   
  
More laughter, and a hiccup this time.   
  
Remus shook his head. Time to go to Harry's rescue.   
  
"Padfoot, let the poor kid breathe!" Remus shouted reprovingly, running across the ankle length grass.   
  
Padfoot shot him a resentful glare, but reluctantly released the boy. Harry scrambled to his feet, wild hair even wilder with pieces of leaves and grass, and fled to his savior.   
  
"Moony!" Harry greeted with a timid smile, some of his shyness returning. He was only truly a child around his godfather, but Remus held the position as a honorary big brother / second godfather / friend (the word uncle had been tainted; Harry stubbornly refused to refer to anyone as uncle) of sorts in his eyes.   
  
Remus scooped him up in a small hug, and discreetly started to extract the pieces of grass tangled in his hair. Harry was gasping for breath, trembling from exertion and weariness. He was still easily tired after a month of slow recovery, and Remus inwardly sighed, saving Sirius a rebuke later. He patted the small child's back in a mixed effort to alleviate the coughs and dust the leaves from his clothes.   
  
"Padfoot's picking on you again?" Remus teasingly asked, glaring at the dog pointedly and speaking just loud enough for him to hear.   
  
Padfoot barked indignantly.   
  
"Nod, Harry," Remus whispered under his breath, when the child proved to be clueless.   
  
Obediently, Harry nodded.   
  
Padfoot growled. Remus triumphantly grinned.   
  
Remus lightly smoothed out the child's hair, "Moony is so much nicer than Padfoot, right? Keep nodding, Harry. See, I don't tickle you to death and pick on you all the time. And… oh no. Harry, run. Run back in the house!"   
  
Remus barely set Harry back on the ground before the growling, oversized, furry blob ploughed into him, knocking him off his feet.   
  
  
  
  
  
Ten minutes later, Sirius sulked on the grass with spiky black hair, glaring at a rather smug looking Remus with a wand.   
  
The front door cautiously cracked open, and Harry peeked out. Noting the clear coast and the oppressing silence, he tentatively stepped outside.   
  
Harry paused when he caught sight of the two, blinking after a rather nasty shock. "Padfoot, your hair…"   
  
Not the best thing to say, considering the temperature of Sirius' glare doubled. Remus made a grunt that sounded suspiciously like inhaled laughter, covering his mouth to muffle the sounds.   
  
Sirius abruptly grinned, a wide, malicious, scheming grin. "They're to stab people with," Sirius cheerfully declared.   
  
Remus instantly backed away, and taking the next closest victim, Sirius poked the five inch long spikes in Harry's direction. The six year old yelped, ran, dodged, and finally settled on latching onto his godfather's back so he'd be successfully out of range. The child was amazingly clever for his age, Remus mused, especially when it came to survival.   
  
Whatever murderous intentions in Sirius' mind melted at that. He patted on the ground beside him, and when Harry plopped down on the grass, affectionately ruffled the child's hair (it was a sort of habit that stuck. Remus would smoothen it out, and Sirius would ruffle it up. It got to a point where people could predict who he met last. Harry never bothered to use a comb).   
  
The ex-convict had long since lost the shadows under his eyes, and his skin was lightly tanned from all those hours under the sun. His hair was finally back in working order, smoothly cropped but no longer neat after the dash through the grass (and Remus' hex). If his blue eyes were just a shade lighter, he would look exactly like the man he was five years ago.   
  
"Harry, think you could change my hair back?" Sirius asked, trying to tug a few spikes of hair so that they could rest flat on his head, but with no success.   
  
It was strange, really, asking magical help from a child. But both Sirius and Remus long since learned how apt Harry was when it came to these matters. They often found him doing performing wandless transfiguration after just seeing it once, and modifying it in ways that they were sure McGonagall would even have trouble with. Remus was beginning to wonder if a trip to Ollivander's was even necessary. Harry's premonitory abilities faded with these practices in magic, but in a way, Remus was relieved. No child should ever have to deal with the burdens of a clairvoyant.   
  
Harry squinted hard at Sirius, emerald eyes brightening with an unnatural light, and the protruding strands of hair peeled back and returned to the laws of gravity. Sirius patted it curiously, shooting a few warning glances Remus' way when he fingered his wand.   
  
"It looks a bit messier than normal," Harry mused quietly, patting his godfather on the hair much like the way he scratched Padfoot's head. It was a habit he never really abandoned.   
  
Sirius glowered in Remus' direction, and whispered low under his breath. "Try to turn Moony's robes orange."   
  
Harry furrowed his brow in thought. "Orange? I've never tried it on a person's clothes before. I'm not sure I can do it right."   
  
Remus narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What was that? What is Sirius teaching you this time?"   
  
"Necessities of life," Sirius informed him nonchalantly. He turned back to the child. "It's the same, but you have to start at his shoes."   
  
"But wouldn't that be really mean?" Harry asked, chewing his lip.   
  
"It's for practice," Sirius grinned schemingly. "And besides, if the wolf ever gets mad, Padfoot will be here to fend him off. Go ahead, try it."   
  
Harry fidgeted, but under Sirius' gaze, seemed to finally relent. He nodded somewhat hesitantly, giving Remus a rather apologetic look.   
  
The wind current shifted around the unsuspecting werewolf, the grass ruffling unnaturally around him. He startled as the patches of grass at his feet froze as if pulled taunt by invisible hands, widening into fat yellow sticks.   
  
Sirius gaped, then snickered.   
  
"What the hell?" Sirius choked out.   
  
Remus picked at a yellow rod that was originally a length of grass, examining it between his fingers. "Harry, why did you change the grass into French fries?"   
  
Harry ducked his head, face reddening as he hid behind his godfather. "Oops." At Remus' incriminating gaze, he slowly began melting towards the grass in embarrassment. "I'm a little hungry."   
  
Sirius drew Harry in a fond, one armed hug with a large smile. "It's a pity you didn't turn Moony into a French fry."   
  
  
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
  
  
The end.   
  
The undersized burrito with too much filling *sigh* The ending left everything hanging. *groan* I was going to reedit it, but like CD, it sort of died along the way. I'm so sorry! you can sort of tell I wrote this on a bus ride, since its completely fragmented. It's a draft, so one day, I probably would come back and reedit it.   
  
as for CoS, umm... chapter 11 is giving me some trouble. I only have 4 pages of it so far, and umm... it's not very good. chapter 11 may be a shorter chapter, around 5 - 6 pages instead of the usual 7 - 8. ack! I'm sorry! School's starting on Thursday and I still haven't finished all my summer reading *cries*   
  
This wasn't exactly what I planned for the epilogue, it just wrote itself. I suppose it doesn't close WS well, but… urg… I'm too lazy to write another. There wasn't even going to be an epilogue, but I couldn't bring myself to end WS either. There's a second chapter to the epilogue, but that closes it all. Well… I guess you can throw scene ideas for me. If I ever get in that mood, I'll choose a few and write it out. There's still some strings that I don't think I tied well. The Dursleys who practically got away with everything. Then, there's Remus' condition to deal with. But another chapter's definitely out of the question, urg!! If someone who hit's the 500th or 1000th or 1500th (if it ever gets there) review for any of the three stories want to request a short story that has to do in this timeline or another chapter to the other stories, I'll be happy to gurgitate one. uh oh, we missed the PoM and CoS 500, didn't we? umm...   
  
Harry is very attached to Sirius, and he's the only person Harry truly trusts. I didn't add Harry and Remus bonding to this, although it would have been a good idea. But WS' theme and plot is so compact… Humm…   
  
I was really worried about making Remus seem like third / fifth wheel in the household, but the things I tried to establish didn't seem that strong. Lets see if I can justify myself: a). Sirius, without Remus, would be constantly musing on the past and making himself miserable. Remus is an unwavering reminder of the present and the now, and with Sirius' past experiences, would never be able to manage by himself. Harry is still too young to understand b). Sirius can't possibly cook. Living in the hotel with Harry was different, he had room service and etc., but if he actually lived with Harry by himself, he'd never be able to get anything done c). Harry needs an outside influence, someone logical and confident and constant. It shows in the sequel later.   
  
this was suppose to be the set up leading into CoS, only... err... it wasn't posted until after CoS was underway. Umm... pretend you haven't read CoS yet!   
  
This epilogue really fragmented, isn't it? I was trying to expand it so it covered on all the important issues, but it ended up being… well… what do you think?   
  
in reply to your message on good intentions CatsPaw: wow, congrats! you made it to one of the best girls schools in the nation! *cheers and throws confetti* girls colleges have the best dorms; i've visited a couple over the summer. what are you majoring in? how are your classes going? I might be applying to one of the Sisters, Wellesly probably, 'cause I'm thinking about graduating early, but I'm not sure if I'll qualify! ack...   
  
wow, MeShelly, you don't have to review every single chapter! there're tons and it's going to take a long time! Plus, I'd feel really guilty if it ran into your school work. *hides* and your views are all long too! WS is really depressing, isn't it? ack... *offers tissues*   
  
err... I tried not to bash this ending, Kaydee, even though everytime I read it... ack, I'll stop! I was aiming for an ending like chapter 32, where you get a sense of closure, but this doesn't really give it to you. ack... *grins* the 'aren't you both old men' statement by Harry, can't you just imagine the looks on Remus and Sirius' faces? but they can't really get mad at Harry since he really didn't understand that they were joking. *sigh* as for your message on my gbook (i updated by site! how do you like the hover links?), I feel your pain about math. I'm going into calculus bc, and... ack... how's the first day of school?   
  
*prods with a cattle rod* Lily of the Valley, are you alive?!?!? Harry's really young and... scarred. It would have been sad if CoS took place 2 weeks after WS. *shudders* I know what you mean about skipping the middle though. I did that with one of my stories, and since then, I've been in this fear. I never write any chapter ahead and skip in the middle now, but different people write differently. *grins* tWisted reality sounds interesting! what's it going to be up? ack... I hope you have new glasses now!   
  
*takes sugar away from Allocin* err... pills? err... *takes those away too* eh? you fainted? what happened? fatigue? exhaustion? fainting sucks! although people usually don't faint for more than 5 minutes, despite what the movies show. humm... I'm going off topic. *nod nod* disclaimers are getting really overblown, but at the same time necessary. It's sort of sad...   
  
I think I should have waited on CoS until after WS was completely finished, Jade S, 'cause no one's reading WS anymore! although, I can see why. *sighs* The only reason I'm posting for WS is because I'm trying to drag attention away from CoS, where I am suffering a minor blockage. *sighs again*   
  
thank you so much, Moonlight! I'm glad you liked Harry's naivete. *grins* the change of mood did seem to change everything around, Essence of Magic. I hope it didn't seem sudden or anything.   
  
here's epilogue two, kayla, I hope you enjoy it! I'm glad you enjoyed the story, depth, and I hope the sequel is just as great! *grins* spiffling is a good word Bookworm2000! It sounds like... like Shadow's 'chipper' for some reason. err... I'll shut up now.   
  
you're not old, Kit Cloudkicker! 24 is the perfect age to live and ooze energy! But of course, Harry being six, he really believed what Remus was saying about Sirius. this Happy Remus seems weird, doesn't it, wellduh...? especially after the homicidal Remus in CoS. uh oh, umm... *hides from Peacockgirl* CoS is giving me lots of trouble!   
  



	35. of mini alternative universes

Disclaimer: all characters belong to J K Rowling and Warner brothers.   
  
a/n Story dedicated to Moppet Poppet, Cheating Death's 500th reviewer!   
  
  
  
**Of Western Stars**  
By neutral   
  
  
  
Chapter zero - of alternative realities   
  
  
  
As promised, the version of WS with miscellaneous alternative chapter versions. I'm having some trouble with the epilogues, so those will be a bit delayed.   
  
  
  
*   
  
_  
  
This was a preliminary version of chapter one and two, where Sirius doesn't actually end up in a park, but runs straight into Harry. Harry takes him to the Dursleys and hides him in the backyard, but that was eventually changed since it had too many discrepancies involved:   
  
_ Four and a half hours later, Sirius found himself trudging through the suburbs of Little Whinging after nightfall, picking his way through the narrow streets. He could feel the stress of the day's events slowly sinking over him like a heavy blanket; his legs were growing heavier and heavier at each step. He could barely pick out the words of the signs even with the bright streetlights.   
  
Sleep was too enticing. He wanted nothing more than to sink to the ground and close his eyes, but the thought of his godson was like a light in the middle of the night.   
  
Sirius forced himself to walk on, but his resolution was shattering by the minute. He was too weary to even hear the footsteps nearing him. It was only when he caught a whiff of dust and old wood that Sirius realized someone was close. Dimly, he lifted his head, the blurred outline of a short child coming into view. The ground swayed, his vision faded into black. The last coherent thought that fluttered into his mind was   
  
Why would a child smell like dust and wood?   
  
  
  
  
  
Sirius slowly drug himself out of the peaceful darkness, feeling more rested than he did for years. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, the brightness momentarily blinding him. He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the light. The angle of the sun told him that it was late afternoon; Sirius stared at the clear blue sky, savoring the image that was stolen from him for the last six years. The trees around him was completely foreign to the sidewalk he last remembered. Beside him, a low row of bushes were planted near the wall, but he could tell that he was lying in the backyard of a muggle house. For a moment, Sirius felt a brief pang of panic. He scrambled to his feet, and something fell to the ground.   
  
It was a worn shirt, looking as if it was meant for a boy as tall as he was wide. Someone had spread it over him when he was asleep. Two bowls were placed on the grass a short distance away, one filled to the brim with water and the other with a piece of burnt toast and a sausage. Both were already cold, but Sirius still grinned. It was a relief to know that whoever had taken him in took the effort of feeding him.   
  
A soft crunch caught his attention. Sirius tensed.   
  
A boy stepped into view, pulling some strands of leaves free from his wild hair as he pushed his way through the bushes. His green eyes, framed with round-rimmed glasses, scanned the area worriedly, but they brightened when they stopped on him.   
  
Sirius heart jumped into his throat.   
  
Harry…   
  
At that moment, Sirius wanted nothing more than to transform back into a person and envelope the small boy into a hug. But discretion caught up with him just in time; what would Harry think? Wouldn't he be horrified to find a strange man who looked like he had been through hell and back, suddenly rush at him?   
  
Sirius hadn't moved since the moment Harry came. The young child (he looked five, not the seven years he really was) stared back at him timidly. Sirius whined softly to dissipate whatever fears in his mind; it was sheer luck that lead him to Harry, he wasn't sure if he could find him if he left again. Harry smiled, stepping forward cautiously and pulling a napkin from his pocket.   
  
"Noodles," he said simply, holding out a soggy bundle.   
  
Sirius stared.   
  
At his stillness, Harry's expression became one of bewilderment. "You're not hungry?" he asked.   
  
Sirius snapped out of his reverie, leaning forward to lap at the food, his eyes never leaving Harry's face. The shade of the boy's eyes, the curve of his face. He looked so much like James, it was frightening. Even the glasses were the same, although parts of it were taped as if they had been broken. Sirius was barely even aware of how the noodles tasted. Harry watched him patiently in silence, completely uncharacteristic of any seven year old. He seemed unused to conversation, barely saying more than a word at a time.   
  
"Boy!"   
  
Sirius startled at the harshness of that voice. Harry paled visibly   
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
_ This was a version where Sirius actually runs through each of the Dursley's room to steal, but of course, that sort of seemed illogical on Sirius' part. Plus, his internal monologue was too calm.   
  
_ Sirius hesitated, reluctant to leave the boy. But when Harry's face contorted into a grimace again, Sirius gritted his teeth and turned away.   
  
He made his way quietly upstairs. The first door opened into a small room with an empty bed, floor completely littered with broken muggle toys. Sirius struggled with another surge of anger at the injustice of it all. This could have been Harry's room! The had an extra bed to spare, but instead, they lock him in a cupboard!   
  
Sirius had to forcefully stop himself before he slammed the door in rage. He moved onto the next room quietly. The walls plastered with odd posters that he couldn't discern in the dark and the floor covered with wires of all sorts, Sirius could barely make out the large four-poster at the far corner. But the sounds the boy made in his sleep, it was impossible to overlook him.   
  
So this was Dudley, Sirius thought bitterly. This was where Harry inherited all his oversized clothes.   
  
But then, why not? Sirius smirked as he stepped into the room, kicking aside several wires that came in his way carelessly. But the oversized lump on the bed still slept like the dead. He pushed open the door that he recognized as a closet and picked out whatever accessories that caught his eye. Several extra large shirts, a few pants as long as they were wide, a thick jacket that just screamed money, a belt that might just manage to fit on Harry's narrow waist. He stuffed it all in a duffle bag that he nabbed on his way out.   
  
Sirius scowled angrily when he stepped into the bedroom of Vernon and Petunia Dursley. His hand was just itching to spread over the fat neck of Harry's uncle. He beat it back harshly, but body still shook with rage as he dug through their closet. He selected a few articles that had a remote chance of fitting himself and peeled off his own tattered robes. Wearing the clothes of Harry's dreaded relative was the last thing he wanted, but raising eyebrows with his grimy black robes was worse.   
  
Nevertheless, he'd still receive some odd looks every now and then. The pants were a several inches short of his ankle and the waistline was twice as wide as his. The shirt gave him an odd sensation of wearing a partly unbuttoned thing even though it was fastened to the collar. Sirius shrugged in defeat, then turned to the bedside drawers. He rummaged through them for some time before he noticed the fat wallet lying on the alarm clock. Sirius grinned, fishing out all the bills and counting the contents with some triumph. Although, Sirius decided, that excuse for a muggle deserved far more punishment than just losing a few pounds.   
  
He shut the bedroom door silently behind him when he traced his way back downstairs. He had picked up a brush at Petunia's dresser and was trying to comb as much knots out of his hair as possible. With a piece of string that he strongly suspected to be Lily's vicious older sister's, he tied back the long strands as neatly as possible.   
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
_ This was the cropped scene right after Harry's nightmare. It sort of became overkill.   
  
_ With trembling hands, he dragged the blanket off the vacant bed. Gently, he wrapped the boy in its folds, evading his feeble attempts to escape. The fury against Harry's relatives were rapidly sinking into guilt and disgust against himself.   
  
He carefully spread the soft sheets over the child. Harry fell still, leaning stiffly his godfather with his face hidden in his shirt. He didn't make a sound for what seemed like hours. Sirius thought the child had sunk back into slumber. But when his breathing became raspy and erratic, his shoulders tensing with discomfort, Sirius regarded it with mounting concern. He placed his hand on his shoulder worriedly, but Harry turned from the touch, burying his face against the blanket.   
  
Sirius leaned against the wooden surface, the chipped bedside table a gnawing into the back of his head. He rested his hand on the child's hair, the few hours of anger, guilt, and frustration left him exhausted and emotionally drained. Noticing Harry's stillness, Sirius stood, his neck cracking audibly after his few hours of stiff sitting.   
  
Slowly so not to jar the child, Sirius stood and made his way to the dresser, piled with a mass of bandages and vials. He cleared the divan by carelessly kicking aside the coats and dropped in the soft cushions with Harry nesting against him. He let his head drop back of the headrest, letting the exhaustion of the days vigil sinking over him. Sirius lightly traced his thumb over the reddish contusion that cut across half the child's cheek. The thick palm that struck him left an imprint so deep that the off coloration even spread onto his neck.   
  
Sirius never felt more defeated in his life. It was reliving James and Lily's death all over again, only it was their son dying. A trapped, lost six year old boy slowly fading away into a shell. He was so deeply scared, so scalded and burned from those experiences that Sirius wondered if he could ever lead a normal life again. The way Harry flinched from the slightest glare, the whispered word…   
  
He was losing. They both were.   
  
Sirius rearranged the blankets, and tucked the child snuggly in its folds. Harry had sunk past unconsciousness into sleep, eyes peacefully closed. But Sirius couldn't bring himself to move.   
  
Harry's face twisted into a faint grimace, shifting weakly as another nightmare threatened to submerge him.   
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
_ There was another version where Harry has a vision of Sirius, only this time, after the disaster at the street where he's laughing with the dead people all around him. Of course, that makes him fear and hate Sirius a lot, but that turned out to be too evil to keep. It was spliced with the nightmare instead, so it might read similar. But this one was just cruel, so it died._   
  
If that bothered him, Harry didn't show it. He squinted as if scrutinizing him, emerald eyes peeling back every wall he built around himself. Sirius swallowed worriedly, brushing back a few locks of hair from Harry's forehead as reassurance. He was baffled when Harry lifted his only maneuverable hand and brushed it lightly against Sirius' arm.   
  
Suddenly, the child's eyes snapped open, larger than he believed humanly possible, glazed and unfocused like the glassy eyes of his ancient divination teacher. Sirius could feel the boy stiffen, and Harry seemed to stare at him, right through him.   
  
"Harry!" Sirius shook him slightly.   
  
Harry's eyes flickered. "You're… laughing…" he choked out, but that was so softly whispered that Sirius couldn't make out his words.   
  
The remaining color drained from his face and left him ghastly white. He made a sharp jerk in an attempt to move away, but all he managed was a sharp gasp of pain.   
  
"Harry, don't try to move!" Sirius said sharply.   
  
Those words sent a jolt down the child's spine, as if they incurred a terrifying memory. He clutched the far edge of the bed with the undamaged arm, trying to drag his weakened body as far from the strange man as possible. He whimpered when Sirius took a step forward.   
  
Unnerved by the response, Sirius reached out to clasp the child's arm. But Harry recoiled so violently that he snapped back. The edge of the colt caught the child completely by surprise. With a strangled cry, Harry tumbled to the floor. His shoulder scrapped against the edge of the bedside table with a dull bang, and he fell against the carpet in a tangled heap.   
  
"Harry!"   
  
Alarmed, Sirius scrambled over the bed to get to his godson. But his frantic tone only frightened the boy even more. Harry whimpered, dragging himself against the bed and curling tightly defensively around himself. The pain from the fall and the panicked movement was obviously causing him unbearable agony. Harry was biting his lip to muffle the cries.   
  
"Harry, no. Don't try to move, you're going to hurt yourself more," Sirius whispered almost imploringly.   
  
"No!" Harry choked out between gasps. He shielded his face with his hands, pressing his back against the wall despite the fire lashing out. His eyes were tightly shut and his entire frame shook as if he was hiding from some horrible demon. "Stay away…"   
  
Sirius stiffened, feeling as if someone had just dumped icy water in his stomach.   
  
Harry's eyes were wide in terror, glazed with a strange gloom that a six year old should never have had or seen. He stared at him as if seeing somebody different altogether, mentally reliving a horror that a six year old should never have seen.   
  
"Harry, I'm not going to hurt you." Sirius' words were so hoarse that it was barely recognizable. He knelt beside him, but every time he moved forward, Harry would flinch. Afraid to touch him and reluctant to leave him, he watched Harry agitatedly. In his drug induced delirium, Sirius wondered if it was really him that he saw.   
  
"No… no…" Harry gasped out, his voice taking on a frantic tone. He cowered weakly in a futile attempt to hide. His expression twisted into a grimace at the cost it took just to speak. "You… you're Sirius…"   
  
He didn't have the time to digest the shock, with a bruised and battered child huddling on the floor. Sirius wasn't sure whether to be relieved or upset for Harry recognizing him. He had hoped there was some familiarity, but the way the child reacted, he was baffled.   
  
"Yes, that's my name," Sirius admitted with anxiety.   
  
Harry shuddered, covering his ears. "Stay away… you're… evil."   
  
Those words sent a stab of pain down his spine. Sirius drew a shuddering breath, taking a step back. Those were not the words he expected. Whatever stories that Harry was told must have conflicted with his memories; there was no other explanation for the child's response.   
  
"Harry, listen to me, I'm not evil. What the others said to you was wrong, please listen to me," Sirius coaxed him as soothingly as he could.   
  
"You killed… " Harry whispered frenziedly, pressing his hands against his ears so tightly that he was tearing at his hair.   
  
Sirius flinched, turning away as Harry's accusing words seemed too painful to endure. He shook his head, running a hand over his face in frustration. "I didn't. Harry, I didn't kill anybody," Sirius trailed off, reluctant to give him the full details.   
  
But Harry just shuddered, whether from pain or fear, he wasn't sure. He huddled in a small corner, act reminiscent of the small child fearful of being torn to pieces by a wild dog. But the position was straining his already tender ribs, tearing at the delicate skin on his back. The poorly clotted wounds had ripped at the brush against the table, noticeable stains seeped through Harry's tattered shirt. Sirius tensed at the sight, lightly pulling the slight form from the floor.   
  
Sirius reached out, a hand hovering above the child's shoulder. But the moment he touched the thin shoulder, Harry startled and struggled.   
  
"No! No, no, no, no!" Harry choked out. He buried his face in his arms as if as if blocking out a sight only he could see. He writhed helplessly, face contorted in agony at the ribs that he jolted, his body was twisted in a painful position in his attempt to move away.   
  
"Harry, I'm not going to hurt you!" Sirius whispered. He pried the child's hands free with ease, the fear of further frightening the boy was quickly replaced by concern. He stopped him as he attempted to move away, easing the slight weight against him to keep the ribs from being jarred even further. But Harry all but screamed, entire body jerking as if someone had stabbed him. Sirius held him still, whispering quiet explanations, soothing words, and then finally pleading when Harry feebly struggled. But words that Sirius said seemed to past right through him. Abruptly, Harry fell limp, legs buckling beneath him as he collapsed.   
  
Sirius caught him before he fell completely, startled at the change. But when the child's head lolled back against the crook of his arm, eyes closed in a fitful sleep, he found his throat too constricted to sigh in relief.   
  
Harry didn't trust him. Harry didn't believe him.   
  
With trembling hands, he dragged the blanket off the vacant bed. Gently, he wrapped the boy in its folds, wary of the inflamed and swelling arm. Even in his sleep, the child still shivered.   
  
Sirius drew a deep breath and held it. Harry feared him, hated him even. Whatever stories the people fed him had instilled a fear in the boy, but the kind of reaction seemed beyond that. For a moment, it wasn't Sirius that Harry saw, but something else that represented a kind of horror in the child's mind. Sirius couldn't even imagine the things Harry endured through the few years of his time. He was so deeply scared, so scalded and burned from those experiences that Sirius wondered if he could ever lead a normal life again. The way Harry flinched from the slightest glare, the whispered word…   
  
Carefully, Sirius brushed back the loose bandages, stained a dark red. A long gash was open and gaping, inflamed on the child's shoulder blade. The malnutrition nearly destroyed his immune system, and made him easily susceptible to cuts and bruises. He touched it lightly, examining the extent of the damage. He needed to call the doctor tonight…   
  
Slowly so not to jar the child, Sirius stood and made his way to the dresser, piled with a mass of bandages and vials. He cleared the divan by carelessly kicking aside the coats and nested Harry on the surface. The child was thoroughly fatigued, and his skin blended into the bleached cushions with frightening similarity. He didn't even respond when Sirius peeled away the collar of his oversized shirt, and dabbed some stinging disinfectant onto the bleeding wound.   
  
He knelt beside the divan, the chipped bedside table a gnawing into the small of his back. Harry had sunk past unconsciousness into sleep, eyes peacefully closed; the few hours of desperation, guilt, and defeat left him exhausted and emotionally drained. But Sirius couldn't bring himself to move. He let the child rest limply against his shoulder, distantly registering light that filtered through the drawn curtains.   
  
Sirius never felt more defeated in his life. It was reliving James and Lily's death all over again, only it was their son he was losing. A trapped, lost six year old boy slowly fading away…   
  
He closed his eyes wearily, resting his hand on the child's hair. He hadn't even considered Harry's reaction when he took him out of the Dursleys that night; he was too lost in his frustration, too lost in his anger to even care. But now with the child shielding away from him as if he was the murderer, Sirius felt as if he lost him all over again.   
  
But even at the violent refutation, he still clasped the small child close. Lightly, he ran his fingers through the windblown hair, gently rocking the child back and forth.   
  
He should take Harry to Remus, to Hogwarts; leave him in peace where he can be tended to without fear. He could make sure that Harry had a good home; he could make sure the child was happy. He could explain to Remus, and even if he was sent back to Azkaban, he would have found some semblance of peace. But He couldn't live with Harry hating him. He just couldn't…   
  
With Harry's reaction, he was even more determined to make him understand. He would earn his trust, earn his affections as any parent should have done. He would be the godfather that Harry should always have had.   
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
_ This was the scene later cropped, in which Sirius actually transforms into Padfoot when Harry's asleep and sort of replaces him since he seemed so insecure. But overall, it was too hard to manage and unnecessary, so it got killed off.   
  
_ The past few days had honed his hearing to detect any little stir from the child. Sirius awoke to find Harry's eyes fluttering, his breathing deepening. Slowly, he cracked his eyelids open and blinked to adjust to the dimmed morning sun.   
  
Sirius whined softly, pressing a wet muzzle against the child's hand. Harry was awake in an instant, lifting his head gingerly, and staring at the dog in disbelief. But he kept that up only for a few seconds before dropping back down heavily.   
  
"Padfoot…?" Harry whispered incredulously.   
  
Sirius wagged his tail, thumping it against the bed. Harry blinked, looking disoriented. It was confusing to wake up in a hotel room to find a dog that's suppose to be miles away.   
  
"What…? How…?" Harry asked, squinting slightly.   
  
Sirius bowed with a gesture that looked suspiciously like a shrug, and nudged Harry's hand again.   
  
"What happened last night? I can't remember… I fell off the bed, I think. I can't remember what happened after that…" Harry whispered, mostly to himself.   
  
Sirius perked up, frowning in confusion at those words. But Harry didn't seem concerned at all; he shook it off as if it was conventional.   
  
"How did you get here? Where's he?" Harry mumbled as he scanned the room. It was hard, especially from his position on the bed, and he gave up quickly. He sank back against the pillows, and Sirius was surprised to see remnants of disappointment seeping into his eyes. "Did he leave? He… he left, didn't he?"   
  
He abandoned me, didn't he?   
  
Harry said none of those things, but the vulnerability of his tone betrayed it. With a sinking heart, Sirius realized how frightening it must be for a child to find himself in a completely foreign place with just a dog for company.   
  
Sirius shook his head quickly, inwardly hesitant. Should he answer, should he tell? But what if Harry didn't accept it, and rejected Padfoot too? He wasn't sure if he could deal with that.   
  
Harry was silent, staring at the curtained windows in a sort of quiet resignation. If Sirius' absence bothered him, he didn't show it. But his eyes darkened as if he was remembering something.   
  
Sirius whined softly again, nuzzling the child's forehead reassuringly. Harry slowly smiled, although it seemed slightly forced, scratching him lightly behind the ears. He usually rubbed the top of the dog's head, but when his arm felt so sapped of energy, Harry just couldn't seem to move.   
  
"I was so worried. I thought I'd never see you again," Harry whispered, giving the dog a fond smile. And Sirius couldn't help but give the boy a rather messy lick that made him cough and splutter. Harry made a face, and tried to retaliate by tugging at the dog's hair. "I think I overdid the shampooing. You still smell like flowers, Padfoot."   
  
Sirius nipped at his hand teasingly, inwardly promising himself to dunk Harry in a basin of flowery soap once the boy was up and running again.   
  
"You need another bath, Padfoot," Harry muttered, fingering the silky strands. "And a hair cut."   
  
Sirius could almost see the gears turning in Harry's head. He shook his head hard, glaring at the child disapprovingly. But Harry was already pushing the covers back, dragging himself slowly to the edge of the bed. Barking softly in warning, Sirius caught his oversized shirt by the sleeve.   
  
"But you need a bath," Harry pointed out, but he didn't resist when Sirius hauled him back into bed.   
  
Harry shifted, making a move to sit, but the previous day left him exhausted and he sank against the bed flaccidly. Sirius disapprovingly shook his head, using his teeth to pull the blankets to his chin. He pressed a hand sized paw firmly against the sheets. Harry groaned, dropping his head back on the pillow. He was a lot more expressive with Padfoot around.   
  
"You're not letting me get up," Harry wearily muttered.   
  
Sirius nodded with a reproving glare. But it was still a relief to hear the child speaking so freely again.   
  
The demons that haunted him the day before didn't leave its claws in Harry's mind. Rather, he bounced back from the memory relapse as if it was a common occurrence. Sirius inwardly frowned.   
  
Harry pushed at his paw weakly, trying to tug the blankets free. But it cost too much energy, and he oozed into the bed again. "I'm so tired…" he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.   
  
Sirius nuzzled his cheek sympathetically. Harry sighed in defeat, patting his head lightly. Sirius didn't have to wait long before the child's eyes were fighting to stay open.   
  
The hand on his head slackened and fell limp, sliding down the long fur to rest beside a paw almost as large as itself. In a few minutes, Harry's breathing evened into slow, peaceful breaths, and the child was asleep.   
  
Sirius jumped off the bed, careful not to jostle the covers. He landed on the floor with two feet instead of four paws. Sighing, he scooped up the bottles of hotel soap on his way to the shower.   
  
  
  
*   
  
_  
  
This was a cropped scene from when Harry actually dreams about a certain conversation Remus had with Dumbledore through the fireplace. It later seemed unnecessary though, and got removed.   
  
_ "What about Remus? Wouldn't he be angry? He's been trying to look for you."   
  
"How do you know he's been trying to look for me?" Sirius asked.   
  
Harry wrinkled his brow, a bit befuddled. "I don't know… I think it's a dream but I can't remember… Remus was at Mrs. Figg's; there was a fireplace and he was talking into it. The fire was green…" He sounded only partially awake with the distant tone and unfocused eyes.   
  
Sirius nearly jumped to his feet in shock. How could Harry know? Unless the dream was a vision, and Harry was a divinator?   
  
"What was he saying, do you remember?" Sirius asked carefully.   
  
"Not really," Harry admitted diffidently. "But he was speaking to an old man…"   
  
On any other day, Sirius would have laughed aloud at Harry's reference towards the headmaster, but the accuracy of the child's dream took all the humor out of it.   
  
"He had blue eyes and a long white beard, right?"   
  
Harry nodded quickly. "Remus was angry and confused at the same time. He didn't know why I was dead yet."   
  
He should have told Remus, or at least sent an owl or left a note. His friend must be frantic with worry searching for any links to Harry's location. Could Remus suspect the truth, or did he still believe in his guilt?   
  
Sirius sighed resignedly. "I'll tell him before we leave. I'll explain everything to him before we go to America."   
  
They both fell into silence at that, Harry a bit awkward at the gloom Sirius found himself in. But Sirius forced a smile on his face, trying hard to change the subject.   
  
  
  
*   
  
_  
  
There was a particular scene cropped between Remus' stay in their room and Sirius completely vanishing. Instead of standing on the patio, he was actually touring the nearby city. I'm not sure why I removed it, since I sort of got attached to it on an early first draft, but oh well… In this scene, Harry actually tells Sirius about his dream about his birthday.   
  
_ "What do you think?" Sirius asked, pulling a shirt out of the rack.   
  
Harry leaned forward slightly, his movements still heavily impaired. He no longer needed to squint with the new, titanium rimmed glasses. His left leg dangled limply in a thick cast that stretched to his knee, and with his left wrist strained, it was impossible for him to handle crutches. Sirius was forced to carry the child through the better part of the day, but it brought many smiles from old ladies across their path.   
  
Pinching his face up in thought, Harry examined the accessory, "It looks like… the blue one Uncle Vernon wears…"   
  
Sirius stuffed it back quickly.   
  
Harry's recovery, although agonizingly slow to Sirius, surprised the doctor. He had expected hospitalization to be compulsory, but by the end of the week, declared the child well enough to make a trip outdoors. It would be beneficial in ways to give him a change of scenery, finally letting him breathe after total confinement. Although the doctor had more of a short sit in the sun in mind, rather than a whole tour of the city, Sirius took it to the extreme. He couldn't endure the look of yearning every time Harry peeked through the curtains, and when Harry insisted, couldn't help but give leeway.   
  
He was a bit paranoid by the numerous 'what ifs' the doctor kept bringing up; he wasn't sure if that was a characteristic muggles followed or not. Just as a precaution, he pocketed half a bottle of painkillers and all of the antibiotics.   
  
Sirius wasn't well acquainted with the location around their hotel, and ended up settling on street that reminded him oddly of Diagon Alley with the stores and the people.   
  
Sirius had never really toured muggle towns past what Lily showed them, and that was years ago. By the look on Harry's face, he had never either. The child was wide eyed, staring at everything curiously. But to any bystander, they would have appeared to be just a normal family of a father and son, a bit battered and a bit starved, but still normal.   
  
They prowled through the coffee shops, watch stores, small bookstores with musty books. They once passed a stand with hundreds of decorated fish bowls, and it took Sirius a good five minutes to realize they were candles. His first stop was to buy the boy some well deserved and badly needed clothes. He hadn't planned to buy himself any, but when Harry made the observation that they were from his dreaded uncle's wardrobe, it suddenly became a necessity.   
  
He spent the better half of the hour entertaining Harry with odd muggle items through the stores. He hadn't really intended to take so long just buying a few shirts, but listening to Harry's comments were amusing.   
  
"That one!" Harry pointed excitedly.   
  
Sirius couldn't remember a time when Harry actually spoke so openly, or when he was so carefree. His shyness had disappeared around his godfather, and for some brief moments, acted like any other six year old. But the extreme paleness of his skin and the boniness of his frame said otherwise.   
  
Sirius grinned in amusement, pulling out an odd Hawaiian colored shirt patched with motifs of various breeds of dogs.   
  
"I don't know, Harry. It seems a bit… loud."   
  
Harry drew a blank face, the figure of speech flying completely over his head. But he nodded anyway, leaning back against his godfather. Even though he didn't cry and beg like most children his age, the resigned nod to Sirius was far worse.   
  
"Well, if you like it, I'll buy it," Sirius told him with a sigh. "But just don't ask me to wear it."   
  
Harry grinned brightly, and Sirius wondered if he knew how much influence he had over his godfather. The hat rack caught his attention, and he scanned the shelves for something that would fit on an undersized six year old. Harry's unruly hair and oddly shaped scar was recognizable to every wizard, and since he didn't have a wand to cover it up, a hat was the next best thing. Sirius inwardly sighed as he scanned the rows of mismatched hats for something that would fit remotely on the child's head.   
  
"You need a bath," Harry suddenly blurted out, tugging at a few strands of Sirius' long hair that tickled his cheek. His shyness was fading rapidly, replaced by the same carefree demeanor that he only treated Padfoot. "And a hair cut."   
  
"Oh no, don't even think about it," Sirius groaned despairingly. "I couldn't get rid of that floral smell for a week afterwards."   
  
"You didn't like it?" Harry asked innocently.   
  
Sirius caught himself before he shouted a rather loud, 'no!' at the oblivious six year old. "Uhh," he raked his mind for some sort of plausible excuse that wouldn't upset the painfully shy boy. "There wasn't any other types? Arabella probably has hundreds."   
  
Harry drew a blank look at the name. "I didn't check," he muttered, bowing his head sheepishly. "Padfoot didn't seem to mind…" he added almost as an afterthought. "… too much."   
  
Sirius grinned, "So you like a dog better than your godfather?" he asked mischievously, chidingly poking Harry on the forehead.   
  
Harry seemed to seriously consider that question; Sirius inwardly groaned. But the child settled on answering with a small smile and a light pat on his head, and Sirius couldn't help but laugh. The memories of Azkaban seemed so far away, and even Pettigrew lost his significance. Just then, nothing and no one else mattered but the child in his arms.   
  
  
  
  
  
"This reminds me of that street," Harry suddenly whispered, watching the few customers scurry through their ways on the cobblestone path.   
  
"What?" Sirius blinked, baffled.   
  
"That street," Harry repeated. He twisted the edge of the cast with a hand, something he did whenever he was eager. "It has a lot of stores lining it, and people wearing long cloaks and pointed hats. There's this one store that had a broom in the window, and another with owls in it, and another with really thick and dusty books, and another tall white building off in the distance."   
  
Diagon Alley? He hadn't told Harry about that place yet, not in that sort of detail…   
  
Sirius cleared his throat quickly. "That place is in London, Harry. It's sort of a… store for wizards. How did you know about it?"   
  
"Oh," Harry seemed vaguely interested and disappointed at the same time, but he hid it well. "I dreamt about it."   
  
Sirius blinked, instantly curious. "What happened in that dream, do you remember?"   
  
Harry hesitated. "It's not very clear, but I think…it was the summer, and it was really sunny. There were a lot of people." Harry's voice dimmed into muteness, as he scanned the street again. He seemed to want to say something, but hesitant at the same time. "You were in it. That's how I realized you were Padfoot."   
  
Sirius' jaw dropped. "Me?"   
  
Harry nodded. "But you were wearing a black cloak. We were walking down the street, and people were staring at us for some reason. You weren't very happy with that though, you kept glaring back. And you stopped beside the store with the broom in the window, and you asked me… you asked me…," Harry trailed off, chewing his lip.   
  
"What did I say?" Sirius asked softly.   
  
Harry paused, his piercing emerald eyes watching Sirius timidly. "You asked me… what I wanted for my birthday."   
  
Sirius couldn't find the words to speak for a long time after.   
  
To walk down Diagon Alley without Padfoot's disguise as if nothing had ever happened, celebrating Harry's birthday… that was too much to hope for. But could it be possible?   
  
Harry was silent as well; he seemed to realize that Sirius was caught up in his own thoughts. His godfather did that very often. His dream meant far more to Sirius than he understood.   
  
Finally, Sirius broke into a smile, lightly ruffling the child's hair.   
  
"What do you want for your birthday?" Sirius asked.   
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
_ This was the very sad alternate scene when Remus punches Sirius, but gets Harry instead, or rather, the child moved in front to take the blow. I don't know what I was thinking then. I think CD had too much influence on this scene…   
  
_ He wanted to strike Sirius. He wanted to slam his fist against his face for all the agony he had placed everyone through, for James and Lily, for Harry, for countless other people. There was a shuffle and a blur. His fist connected with bony ridges and there was a cry of surprise. Remus found himself standing numbly by the low table, his hand tingling at the contact. Sirius was wide eyed as he reached for the child sprawled awkwardly on the floor. Harry lay unmoving, his eyes squeezed shut in pain as he clutched at his shoulder in agony.   
  
Harry moved in front… didn't- want him to hurt Sirius, his parent's murderer! Remus was torn between guilt and rage at the thought.   
  
"Harry! Oh god, what…. Why…?" Sirius choked out, gently scooping the child from the carpeted floor. He looked more distraught than Remus ever remembered as he cradled the boy against him. His hand shook when he brushed hair from the boy's face. "Harry, Harry. Are you…? Does it hurt? Why did you…? Let me see, it's okay," Sirius repeated in a low whisper, Remus all but forgotten as he coaxed his godson.   
  
Carefully, he pried Harry's hand from his shoulder, gingerly tracing the rapidly growing bruise. The lycanthrope enhanced strength was far too damaging for a child's brittle frame to endure; in just a few minutes, it grew into a dark red across the skin.   
  
"Why did you do that? What did you think you were doing?" Sirius muttered softly, looking pained.   
  
Harry seemed all but responsive to his godfather's words. His eyes were shut as if the world was falling down like rain around him, and tremors wracked his thin form in small spasms. He whimpered at the lightest touch, flinching away. The memories were back to haunt him, and a relapse was threatening to return.   
  
The sight sent the weight of his mistake crashing back down. Remus dropped to his knees beside the pair, the wand lying harmlessly on the floor. It was a foolish action that could result in horrible repercussions, but Remus barely even gave it a thought.   
  
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Harry, are you alright?" Remus whispered shakily.   
  
But at his approach, Sirius wrapped an arm defensively around the boy as if he wanted to protect Harry from Remus as well. Remus drew back guiltily.   
  
"I didn't mean to. I… why were you trying to help Sirius? Do you even understand what he's done?" Remus asked miserably.   
  
Harry's eyes snapped open, and he grasped Sirius' sleeve desperately. "No! He didn't to it! He didn't!"   
  
Remus' stomach clinched at the sight, and he could have landed another punch on the traitor's face if it wasn't for the child between them. "What sort of lies as he been telling you?" Remus said, his voice dangerously soft.   
  
"Remus, if you would just listen to me for a moment…"   
  
"What sort of lies have you been telling the poor boy?!" Remus hissed, trying to pierce Sirius right through with his glare. He reached for his wand blindly, unable to break the gaze. "You've been using his loneness against him, taking advantage of him when all Harry had his entire life was neglect… you…"   
  
"Shut up!!" Sirius shouted, crushing Harry tightly against him. "I haven't been telling him any lies!! Listen to me…"   
  
He broke off abruptly when Remus held the wand right between his eyes. The wolf's skin was ghastly pale, and arm shook violently. But a determined gleam shone with the fury raging in his eyes.   
  
"Don't!" Harry gasped out, struggling. But Sirius' restraining hand kept him from sitting up. The child's hand snaked out and grasped Remus' wand firmly, dragging it towards himself. Remus nearly dropped it in shock.   
  
"No! Stop, Harry," Sirius said almost pleadingly. He loosened the child's grip with ease. "Cast a sleeping charm on him, Remus. He's going to hurt himself if he keeps trying to move like this."   
  
"No!!" Harry trashed feebly in his arms as he reached for Remus again. "You promised him! You promised him you wouldn't do anything! You agreed to him that you'd take us to Hogwarts and listen to what Padfoot has to say!"   
  
"What are you talking about, Harry?" Remus asked, baffled.   
  
"That man in the fireplace! The old man with white hair and blue eyes… him…"   
  
Remus paled. "Dumbledore."   
  
"Yes! He told you to tread carefully… not to do anything…" Harry's words dissolved in a fit of coughs. He hid his face against Sirius' shirt, his shoulders wrenching painfully.   
  
Sirius rubbed his back soothingly, trying hard not to aggravate the partially healed wounds. "That's enough, Harry. Stop trying to talk."   
  
Remus could feel his jaw dropping, stunned. "How…?"   
  
  
  
*   
  
_  
  
This was a hit and miss version of Remus' visit, minus Minerva. He gets a little epiphany like in book three, 'cause I wanted to draw some parallels, but it sort of occurred to me how illogical it was._   
  
And then, as if the light finally shone into his dark cell, a thought occurred to him that made Remus want to stab himself at his ignorance.   
  
Remus backed away, running a weary hand through his hair. "Sirius, was it you?"   
  
Sirius paused, looking at him with an expression of hope and disbelief filtering through his pale eyes, his arm tightening around the sleeping child.   
  
"No," Sirius whispered, very softly.   
  
"Did you switch, and didn't tell me?" Remus asked, dropping his wand arm to his side. He kept his voice deceptively calm, but his mind was a torrent of thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him.   
  
Stiffly, Sirius nodded.   
  
Remus exhaled sharply, catching the edge of the desk and leaning against it heavily. That was twice he had been blind. Twice he made mistakes that could have had horrible consequences that ripped away the last two people he had left in the world.   
  
With a trembling hand, he drew a pearl-like stone from the depths of his pocket.   
  
"Portkey to Dumbledore's office," Remus explained simply, eyes downcast. "You need to tell everyone. Dumbledore will understand."   
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
_ There was another version of Sirius' confession, without Minerva. He just port keys straight into Dumbledore's office. This is about two chapters long though. Harry's personality was off completely, everything was a bit offkey. This entire scene just is... I donnuo, maybe not quite dramatic? Thoughtprovoking? Not the climax as it should be? It was just flawed..._   
  
Sirius touched the portkey without hesitation.   
  
There was the familiar tug. The room swam and blurred like a pool of water before jumping back into focus in a completely different territory. The richly decorated, gold papered walls of Dumbledore's office was a sharp contrast to the dull hotel room miles away.   
  
For a long moment, no one spoke. Sirius scanned the room with a forced mask of apathy despite the lurching in his stomach. Dumbledore sat behind his desk with a grim sort of reserve. His eyes lost all it's welcoming twinkle, and he grasped his wand firmly. Beside him, Minerva stood, a pile of parchment at her feet. Her hand was gripping her wand so tightly that her knuckles were bloodless. It was impossible to tell Remus' expression as he turned away.   
  
"Sirius Black!" she bitterly whispered. She took in Harry's predicament worriedly, apprehensive that the convict would use the child against them.   
  
Remus took a defensive step forward when she threatened to go for her wand. Sirius dropped his gaze immediately. The sort of reaction from his occassionally stern, somewhat nutters, but inherently kind professor was difficult to endure.   
  
"I see you found them, Remus," Dumbledore said carefully, eyes never moving from Sirius' face.   
  
Minerva raised her wand warningly. "Black, I don't know what you're planning to do with him, but please put Harry down," she said with some amount of anxiety.   
  
Sirius bit back a defensive retort, impulsively hugging Harry closer. The child made a small sound in the back of his throat, hand tightening on his arm as he was jostled. That caught Sirius' attention immediately, and he glanced down at the boy.   
  
"Harry?" Sirius asked softly, brushing some strands of hair from his face.   
  
Harry's emerald eyes were wide when he looked up him; he had obviously been awake earlier. He seemed frightened and shaken, and the transfiguration professor misinterpreted it completely.   
  
"Black, put the child down!" Minerva said with forced steadiness.   
  
Dumbledore stood up as if preparing to speak some calming words to stunt the escalating tension, but her lips were already forming silent words.   
  
A bright red streak filled the room for a brief instant.   
  
Sirius instinctively ducked, shielding Harry against him. The burning curse nipped at his neck and sank futilely in the brick wall overhead.   
  
"What were you doing?!" Sirius nearly shouted, crushing Harry against his shirt as he spun around to face his former professor. He was too infuriated to notice the light was a harmless stunning spell that would never have caused any lasting damage. "You could have hurt Harry with that curse!"   
  
Minerva took a step back, caught off guard at the accusation. But her lips thinned into a line quickly, and she narrowed her eyes.   
  
"No!" Harry choked out, turning fearfully from the strange woman. He buried his face in the folds of Sirius' shirt. "No, no, no, no…"   
  
Sirius ran his fingers through Harry's hair, trying to sooth the trembling boy. "Harry, it's okay. Everything's alright."   
  
Harry shook his head, his face still hidden against Sirius. But as Sirius gently began extracting himself from the child's desperate grasp, he made a vague sound of protest.   
  
Sirius inwardly sighed, carefully prying the child's bandaged hand from his shirt and held it in his own. "She's not going to hurt you. They're here to help you," he whispered as reassuringly as he could. "They're going to take you to the hospital wing. I have to go for a little bit, but I'll see you again very soon."   
  
Harry was silent, chewing his lip uneasily. He stole apprehensive glances at the people in the room. Sirius smoothed the child's hair comfortingly, oblivious to the piercing eyes of the others in the room.   
  
A light brush on his shoulder made Sirius startle, and he was surprised to find Dumbledore standing stolidly beside them. The headmaster's eyes were dull with weariness, the lines on his face more pronounced. But they stared at him with a quiet inquisitiveness without hatred or distrust, like Harry's eyes whenever he dreamt.   
  
Sirius found himself desperate to spill his story, desperate for them to understand. But with Harry still huddling against him, he was hesitant. He chewed his lip uneasily, averting his gaze.   
  
"Harry needs to go to the infirmary," Sirius whispered, shifting the child so he rested more comfortably. Harry paled when the meaning of his words sunk in.   
  
Dumbledore raised a halting hand, "Sirius, I know you have a lot to say, and I understand why you would not want someone as young as Harry to endure the truth. But there are some questions I would like to ask the child."   
  
"Professor, if its about those… relatives," Sirius choked on the word, arm tightening around the child as if trying to shield him. "then, don't. Harry's been through enough without having to relive it."   
  
Minerva was stunned into silence. Remus sank into a nearby chair, hands clenching into shaking fists.   
  
Dumbledore's eyes clouded even further. "No, it isn't," he said, shaking his head resignedly. He bent down to meet at eyelevel with the six year old, and Harry peeked through the folds of Sirius' shirt timidly. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, a old man and a young child watching each other with eyes mirroring in intensity, as if entrapped in a discourse only the two could hear. Slowly, a warm smile spread over Dumbledore's face. "You have a very gifted child, Harry."   
  
Harry blinked, perplexed, but some of his apprehension faded in the presence of the headmaster.   
  
"Harry, do you trust Sirius?" Dumbledore asked quietly.   
  
"Yes," Harry replied without hesitation, hand clenching his godfather's arm firmly. There was a stubborn glint in his eyes Sirius only saw in James before.   
  
"Why?"   
  
At that question, Harry faltered. His gaze fell from Dumbledore's, and he fidgeted uneasily. "I… I don't know. I just do, I don't know why." Harry furrowed his brow in thought, twisting an edge of his shirt between his fingers. "He won't lie to me. He doesn't want to tell me some things, but I know he wouldn't lie."   
  
"If I told you that Sirius was guilty, would you believe me?"   
  
Sirius stiffened, blood draining from his face. But Harry seemed unaffected, having fallen back into a brooding silence again.   
  
"No," Harry said finally, his clasp amazingly strong for a child so feeble. He held Sirius' arm in a death grip.   
  
Sirius stared at the child, a bit surprised. He never realized how attached Harry was to him before; the boy was always so silent. Sirius smiled slightly, it was a relief to know that even if no one else believed his innocence, Harry would still trust him. He couldn't bring himself to look at the expressions on Minerva and Remus' face.   
  
Dumbledore smiled again, a knowing, veiled smile that seemed to mean much more. "Why?"   
  
"Because you would be lying."   
  
  
  
  
  
Sirius sat beside Remus in the thick chairs that lined one side of Dumbledore's office, absentmindedly rubbing Harry's undamaged hand for warmth. The room was uncomfortably chilly with their thin clothes, but he was too distracted to speak of it.   
  
'Because you would be lying. You already think he's innocent.'   
  
Harry's words still echoed in his mind. Everyone had been deathly silent since Harry's words. Even after Dumbledore allayed the child with a whispered sleeping charm, he stood unmoving, one hand resting on his desk, deep in thought. Sirius was bursting with impatience to speak, but at the same time, reluctant. Shattering the silence was like shattering the perfect silence of peace before a storm.   
  
There was a rustle as Remus stood. Sirius snapped back into attention when a tattered cloak fell loosely across his lap, covering Harry in its folds. Thin hands, pale at the knuckles, arranged it snugly around the child, its edges draping to his knees. Sirius gave his friend a slight nod of gratitude, but it wasn't acknowledged. Remus' face was carefully stoic as he stared back, but his eyes betrayed the confusion.   
  
"Remus, you have to listen to me. I've been running too long for you not to understand," Sirius whispered; those words made no sense once he said them, but it seemed to in his mind.   
  
Remus visibly paled, but refused to avert his eyes.   
  
Those words seemed to splinter the fragile silence, and Dumbledore straightened as if realizing something.   
  
"Sirius, were you the Potter's secret keeper on Halloween?" Dumbledore asked.   
  
Sirius drew a deep, calming breath, too weary to be relieved at the preciseness of Dumbledore's questions. He turned his attention to the small form resting against him. "No, I asked James… to switch to Pettigrew, just the night before. I thought it was the perfect ruse. Voldermort would never suspect someone as weak, unsuspecting as Wormtail, but…"   
  
"Pettigrew was the spy?" Minerva whispered incredulously. "But what happened at the street…"   
  
"When I realized, I tried to track him down," Sirius nearly growled, clenching his fist and grinding it against the chair. He scowled darkly, "But the moment he noticed me, he screamed out to the entire street and blew up the street with the wand behind his back. He transformed into a rat and ran into the gutter."   
  
Dumbledore was silent, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the convict in the middle of his office. His countenance was deceptively neutral, but his eyes lit with a triumphant gleam. But Sirius couldn't bring himself to look at his friend at all.   
  
"I suppose that's how I managed to stay sane in Azkaban," Sirius added, mostly to himself. "I knew I wasn't guilty, and that wasn't a happy thought. The dementors couldn't take it away from me."   
  
"But his finger?" Minerva asked shakily.   
  
"He cut it off himself, didn't he?" Remus spoke up suddenly.   
  
Sirius glanced at Remus, surprised. He believed him? It hardly seemed possible. He had no proof, just a story to claim his innocence.   
  
"But Harry's picture," Remus asked quietly. "Why did you rip it?"   
  
Sirius frowned at the memory. "That fat excuse of a muggle was in it."   
  
The room was subdued in a thick hush after that as everyone slowly absorbed the news. Minerva sank into a chair when her legs seemed to be threatening to give out. Dumbledore' eyes darkened in defeat, but there was a strange reprieve in his demeanor. He examined Sirius intently for a moment with a restrained hopefulness, but without proof or witnesses, it was difficult to accept such a profoundly different story so abruptly. But he was well acquainted with his former pupil's character, and he understood.   
  
Sirius must have noticed the dark shadows in his eyes, because he spoke hastily again. "I'll take the truth serum."   
  
Dumbledore slowly shook his head. "No, that's unnecessary, Sirius. I believe that you are telling the truth," He stood up as if having been relieved of a horrible burden. "Remus, could you please call back the search team and tell them that Harry has been found unharmed; give them no further details. Sirius, please take the guestroom behind my office in the meantime. I'll bring Harry to the infirmary," The gleam was back in his blue eyes, and it was as if the two weeks of tense worry had never occurred.   
  
Remus lingered by the door, looking as if he wanted to speak, but afraid at the same time. Feeling Sirius' eyes on him, he met his gaze slowly. A small smile, barely discernable, stretched over his face, but it lit his countenance that gave him the appearance of that distant teenager. He inclined his head with an apologetic gesture, and vanished through the open door.   
  
Remus believed him. As long as Remus and Harry trusted him, Sirius would have been satisfied even if no one else did.   
  
  
  
  
  
Harry was afraid.   
  
The last memory that lingered in his mind was the old man asking him if Sirius could be trusted, the fear of the wolf person taking him away, and the next moment, he was staring up at a whitewashed ceiling. The ceiling was unfamiliar from the low tan of the hotel room, far larger and far more intimidating. The room was deafeningly quiet, so quiet that Harry was sure he could hear the blood pounding in his ears.   
  
That was when he realized something was different.   
  
Harry sat up, scarcely away of the bleached sheets that covered him, and the cotton shirt that hung on him like a blanket. There was no ranking flash of pain through his ribs; no throb in his wrist. It didn't even hurt breathing. Confused, Harry pulled back his sleeve. The splotches of blue and purple were still imprinted in his skin, but it stung only mildly.   
  
But that was the last thing on Harry's mind. Sirius was gone, Padfoot was gone! He was the only person who ever sat at his bedside patiently, and touched him with a fatherly affection. He was the only person never yelled at him, screamed at him, and hit him. They took him away, and he would never see him again. A wetness stung in his eyes at the thought.   
  
"… should be able to clear all of this with the ministry," came a voice of an amiable, old man. He sounded familiar, but Harry couldn't recall his name.   
  
"Dumbledore, are you sure about this?" said a young man, obviously concerned.   
  
Moony. That was Moony! Or was it Remus?   
  
Harry sighed softly in relief at the familiar voice, although a small part of him was upset with him for hitting Sirius. But he believed that his godfather was innocent; that was enough to melt the frustration.   
  
"It's impossible, now that we've gone this far. We've involved too many in our search, and even if we tell them that Harry's been found, they will ask questions. I'm trying as hard as I can to keep the news of Sirius out of the light unless I know that they are trustworthy, but in case they do catch wind of this, I want to make sure that Sirius can be defended."   
  
Remus was silent, but he must have appeared rueful because the other man quickly spoke again.   
  
"Remus, I shouldn't have let any innocent man to suffer the fate that Sirius had, but I will ensure that no more unjust harm should come to him," the man's tone carried a tone of calm determination.   
  
The footsteps approached, their shoes clicking softly against the thick rug spread over stone bricks. The curtain shielding his bed from view slowly drew aside as if the person was trying very hard to be silent.   
  
The voices abruptly stopped.   
  
Harry shrank back against the wall, eyes darting between Remus and the ancient man fearfully. It was that man, old but impossibly wise. His lined face spoke of a youthful vigor, and his blue eyes were extraordinarily bright as if he had been relieved of a burden. His hair was pearl white, and hung to his ankles; Harry was suddenly reminded of the fictional story books that his school teacher would read to the class. Harry remembered their conversation a few minutes, or was it hours ago? The man was strange; he knew that he could be trusted, but his emotions were too veiled for Harry to understand.   
  
"Hello, Harry. How are you doing?" Dumbledore asked carefully. His twinkling eyes just drew trust like a magnet.   
  
Nervously, Harry wrung the blankets as he sat as far away from the two as possible. He wasn't as frightened of strangers as he was before, but he was still uncomfortable. And at Sirius' absence, he was even more uneasy. Stiffly, he nodded, eyes scanning the hospital wing for the familiar figure, but paled when Sirius was no where in sight.   
  
Remus tentatively touched his hand, but Harry jerked his arm back as if burned.   
  
"It's alright, Harry. We're not going to hurt you," Remus whispered reassuringly.   
  
Harry relaxed only slightly; his words so reminiscent of Sirius' that he found himself believing them. But it wasn't that he was afraid of them, he was worried about Sirius.   
  
"Where's Padfoot?" Harry blurted out, turning to Remus pleadingly.   
  
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the nickname, but Remus grinned, drawing a chair by the child's bedside.   
  
"He's in the guestroom behind Dumbledore's office. Don't worry, everything will be cleared up soon," Remus said as reassuringly as possible. But Harry wasn't alleviated.   
  
"Remus, would you like to speak to Harry while I check up on some issues at the ministry?" Dumbledore asked with a knowing smile. He disappeared behind a fold of a curtain as if already aware of his former pupil's answer.   
  
Remus lingered in the chair, watching him with eyes clouded with pain and regret. Harry returned the gaze questioningly, unsure of what to say.   
  
"How are you feeling, Harry?" Remus asked finally, averting his eyes as if realizing the discomfort he was causing the child.   
  
"Alright," Harry answered automatically. Sirius had asked him that so many times that his response was already honed.   
  
"Did Sirius already tell you about…. this?" Remus said, gesturing at the general direction of the room overhead.   
  
Despite his vagueness, Harry understood. He nodded, still trying to overcome his unease.   
  
"About Peter? Did he ever tell you about Peter Pettigrew?" Remus asked, a shadow passing over his face.   
  
The man with the black eyes? He saw that man in a myriad of dreams and never understood his significance beyond the fact that he was evil. Sirius never mentioned him, and he knew enough not to ask. Harry shook his head.   
  
Remus gave an audible sigh of relief, sinking back in his chair. "What did he tell you about our world?"   
  
"Quidditch," Harry responded with the first word that came to his mind. He was a bit caught off guard when Remus' lips quirked upwards in a large grin that made him look years younger, coughing as if he was trying to stifle laughter.   
  
"Sirius has been taking good care of you, hasn't he?" Remus murmured, although he seemed to be speaking more to himself.   
  
"He's always asking if I'm okay, always making sure I'm eating enough, or if I'm comfortable," Harry said quickly, feeling an urge to defend his godfather. "He tries really hard, but he's really tired; he didn't sleep for several days. But he tells me its okay. He doesn't want me to be unhappy… but he's always sad. I think it's because of me…" the child trailed off, looking downcast and he wrung the edge of a blanket between his fingers. "I apologize, but… he just becomes more upset. Not angry, just… sad."   
  
Harry fell silent, blinking back the stinginess in his eyes. He knew that something was bothering Sirius, but he didn't understand. His godfather had done everything he could think of just for him, Harry desperately wished he could help him too. But…   
  
A hand on his shoulder drew him from his thoughts. Remus gave the child a reassuring smile, but it was laced with sympathy and remorse. "Don't worry about it, Harry. Sirius just doesn't want you to worry. Everything will be okay very soon."   
  
  
  
*   
  
_  
  
This was the original draft version of chapter 29 and 30 which was a horrible pain. This was written right after I edited Cheating Death, and it drew too many parallels and ended up being a regurgitation. Plus, too many issues were involved that was completely irrelevant in WS. For example, James and the issue of betrayal. It played a part, but it was never the focus in WS, and especially in a turning point, it became too much of a sore thumb. Plus, Harry dropped out, and Remus was never addressed. It just got too tedious and frustrating. But anyway, here it is and promise not to laugh too much…   
  
_ It was black.   
  
That was all he could see. Darkness on every side, darkness everywhere he looked, darkness lacing his fingers, darkness overshadowing his eyes.   
  
Sirius took a small step forward, musing as the darkness beneath his feet rippled like pools of water. But it made no sound as he placed his weight on it, and stood resolutely firm. Sirius took another step, and another, and another, just so he could amuse himself by watching the solid water.   
  
If this was hell, it was boring.   
  
He had hoped he would be able to see James and Lily at least, but there was nothing. But he probably didn't deserve heaven, and if he did, James and Lily wouldn't want to see him. He had failed Harry. He let Harry die.   
  
Sirius fell to his knees.   
  
The water churned violently, but held firm. Numbly, Sirius watched his reflection stare back at him. His hair was ragged, his eyes dead. He looked horrible to even his standards, which had significantly lowered since Azkaban. But not that it mattered anymore.   
  
He deserved this place. He deserved to suffer, just as he did in Azkaban. He deserved to rot in darkness for eternity, after all that he did to James, to Lily, to Harry. He just hoped Wormtail wasn't here too.   
  
Damn that rat. Damn him!!   
  
Sirius covered his face with his hands, tensing his fingers so harshly that he clawed as his skin. The jagged wound, slit across his throat of the young… too young child, was burned into his eyelids. His fault. His fault!! He never failed to drag the innocent child into trouble. If he had taken care of him, protected him, kept his promise, then Harry would never have been hurt. He would never had have to die.   
  
Perhaps if he never escaped…? No, then Harry would still be in the care of those abusive relatives. He should have escaped sooner, yes, and done something. Something to help him!   
  
Should have told Harry about Peter. Should have strangled that rat to death in the beginning. Should have helped Harry sooner.   
  
Distantly, Sirius noted, with some grimness, that he was crying. Strange, really. He hadn't cried since the night James and Lily died. Blinding, hot tears that threatened to rip him apart. He was sobbing uncontrollably in his hands, out of guilt, anger, fury all directed against himself. He didn't even care that he was a twenty-five year old adult who survived the horrors of Azkaban.   
  
Sirius drew a shuddering gasp and fell silent.   
  
He was still, eyes downcast. He wanted to move but had nowhere to go. He wanted to leave but didn't dare. He wanted to rot where he knelt but didn't think he deserved the decency.   
  
A hand patted him lightly on the head.   
  
Sirius stilled.   
  
Very slowly, he turned, letting his head fall back with the pull of gravity. A man with wild dark hair and round brass glasses was beside him, kneeling in imitation to him. He examined Sirius carefully, face growing more and more gloomy as he took in his appearance.   
  
Sirius breath caught in his throat, eyes widening in disbelief.   
  
"Harry…?" he whispered shakily.   
  
The man frowned, "It's James, you dolt," his words were chiding, but he was truly concerned. "I'm about three times older. Geez, Sirius, how can you get me mixed up with a six year old?"   
  
Sirius froze. For what seemed like hours, he just stared.   
  
"James?" Sirius echoed, dazed.   
  
"Are you alright in there?" James asked, rapping Sirius teasingly on the head.   
  
"I have no clue," Sirius answered truthfully. He leaned back, ready to sink into the blinding coat of self-torture again, but James stopped him with a pointed glare.   
  
"That's it? No ecstatic hello? No hug and tell me what a wonderful friend I was? No questions as to why the hell I'm even here?" James grumbled indignantly. "Some greeting I get. Hello to you too, Padfoot."   
  
Sirius drew a shuddering breath, swaying dangerously as if James' words were rocks. He caught his friend's arm in a death grip, letting his head drop as if his neck was slit and broken. "I… I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling his eyes sting and blur. "I'm so sorry."   
  
James startled, his lighthearted façade slipping altogether. That was obviously not what he was expecting. He watched his friend apologetically, before patting Sirius's arm as assurance, "You've never been blamed."   
  
"No," Sirius choked out. "I killed you. I killed Lily. It should never have been you. I should have died a long time ago…"   
  
It would have spared Harry…   
  
James' expression fell. "Sirius, you didn't kill Lily and I. Voldemort did. There was no way you could have known that Peter was the spy."   
  
"I told you to switch," Sirius continued as if James' words passed right through him. "I sold you out… made Harry an orphan…"   
  
"And you had to endure five years in hell for something you didn't do," James finished. He sat down, eyeing Sirius' hutched form worriedly. "If I hadn't placed such a burden on you, you would have been alright. If I had chosen Dumbledore, things would have been okay. I'm sorry."   
  
Sirius didn't reply.   
  
"But then Voldemort might not have disappeared, and we're all would have been dead later anyway. I suppose something good came out of it," James said thoughtfully.   
  
Sirius glanced up sharply, eyes narrowed in anger. "Nothing good came out of that!" Sirius hissed. "Harry became an orphan. He lost any hope of ever having a family. How can you put it aside so easily?"   
  
It was James' turn to fall silent. Sirius averted his gaze, tapping idly at the glassy water. Dully, he marveled at how firm yet yielding the silky rock was. His tear streaked, hollow gaze stared back at him, blurred by the reflection.   
  
"Thank you for taking care of him, Padfoot," James said finally.   
  
"Some job I did…" he whispered bitterly. Another thought struck him, and he shook himself free of that devouring guilt. "Is this the heaven? Am I dead?"   
  
James smiled in relief when some coherency entered his voice. "No, you're not."   
  
Sirius' head dropped in disappointment. "This is hell then? Why are you in hell, Prongs? Those pranks couldn't have been that horribly condemned."   
  
James discreetly cleared his throat. "This isn't hell either. This is your mind."   
  
Sirius grunted, taking his words as some sort of twisted joke but deciding to play along. "Am I that boring?"   
  
James sighed in exasperation. "I came all the way here to visit you! Would you please take me seriously?" Sirius grunted again.   
  
"Sirius, listen to me. This place isn't exactly your mind, but its where your mind takes you when you want to die. It's like the place between the two extremes, but you're not dead," James said urgently, gripping his friend firmly on the shoulder in an attempt to draw him from his gaze. But Sirius just shrugged him away.   
  
"If you're here to convince me to go back, then it's not going to work," Sirius murmured numbly. He could hardly summon the attention to even care with his dead friend in front of him. If he could draw his thoughts together, he would have laughed in amusement.   
  
"Sirius…"   
  
"Let me be!" Sirius snapped irritably.   
  
"So you can drown in your self-guilt? Sirius that's not…"   
  
James broke off when Sirius jerked convulsively, reaching up to grasp his wrist in a bone crushing grip. There was a wild glint in his eyes that betrayed just how close he was to snapping completely.   
  
"James, don't you understand?" Sirius whispered brokenly, "I killed your son."   
  
A brittle silence followed his words. Sirius dropped James' wrist jerkily, shoulders slumping in defeat. He couldn't bring himself to face his best friend.   
  
James drew a long, slow breath. "Sirius, that's not true."   
  
"I left him to die," Sirius repeated, tone taking on a desperate edge. "I left him, neglected him when he needed me the most, and he died! I practically killed him with my own hands."   
  
"That's not true!" James said sharply. "Sirius, Harry isn't dead…"   
  
Sirius startled, jerking his head up, surprise and disbelief written over his face. Soundlessly, he opened his mouth and closed it.   
  
"But… I saw," he whispered, backing away hesitantly. "James…"   
  
"I'm not lying!" James said, sounding exasperated at just the thought. "I won't lie to you on matters like these. Harry's not dead, but he's not exactly alive either. He's lost, just like you, but unlike you, I can't reach him."   
  
"What are you talking about?" Sirius asked, his glazed eyes finally beginning to clear. "What's wrong with Harry?"   
  
"He doesn't want to go back, like you," James said, sinking back against the glassy floor dejectedly. "He probably thinks that you're dead."   
  
"What? Where is he?" Sirius straightened, staring at James with a sort of desperation. "Can I see him?"   
  
"I don't know," James admitted hesitantly. "I couldn't find him, but you might."   
  
Sirius didn't stop to question the vagueness of James' words. He didn't wait for him to finish his sentence before he was already dragging himself to his feet, scanning the dark expanse around him. But he had only begun to look before a stark white in a distance caught the corner of his eye.   
  
A small figure, clothed in oversized hospital clothes of bleached white, stood stiffly. He looked lost and out of place at the harsh contrast of white against black. Even with his back towards them, Sirius could recognize that ruffled hair and slight frame anywhere.   
  
"Harry?" Sirius spoke softly, but the empty expanse scattered his voice and amplified it. He felt more than saw James scramble to his feet behind him. Impulsively, he ran across the black water.   
  
Harry didn't respond at his voice, nor did he react at all. His glasses were gone, and his faulty vision blurred and smeared the endless black like some artist easel. He lay against the glass sprawled on his side, a mockery of the position he lay in the red room hours before, bleeding and dying. Sirius cringed inwardly; in a moment, he had lifted the child and enveloped him in a warm embrace.   
  
Harry fell flaccidly against him, sagging against his shoulder as if his bones had given away.   
  
Sirius drew back, alarmed. He cupped the child's cheek, calling his name softly under his breath, but Harry was limp as a broken doll. His emerald eyes were glazed and unfocused, and as Sirius tilted his head to one side, stared right through him as if he was invisible.   
  
"No, no, no, don't do this," Sirius almost pleaded, voice shaky as he brushed a few rebellious strands of hair out of his eyes. "Harry? Hey, say something. It's me, it's Padfoot. Harry?"   
  
Harry was silent, eyes deadened.   
  
"No…" Sirius breathed in a hopeless whisper, sinking to his knees. The child wilted flaccidly against him, as if the body he cradled was only a small sack of shapeless bones. His mind was a muddled heap of confusions and questions. He didn't know where he was, why he was there, and why he wasn't dead when he should have been. It hardly seemed to matter. There was only one reverberating thought in his mind.   
  
It was all his fault. Everything…   
  
"No…" Sirius repeated, his throat so constricted it was painful to speak. He buried his face in Harry's unruly hair, too drained to even cry. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry…"   
  
There was a tentative hand on his shoulder, but Sirius was only distantly aware of it.   
  
"You should never have trusted me, Harry. I just failed you… I always fail you…" Sirius continued desperately.   
  
"Sirius…"   
  
Sirius stilled, but couldn't bring himself to look up.   
  
"Sirius," James repeated, more urgently this time.   
  
"It's over, isn't it?" Sirius asked quietly, meeting James' eyes dazedly. "Everything's all over…"   
  
"No, Sirius, that's not true," James said, gaze firm and unwavering.   
  
"Then what's wrong with him?" Sirius whispered, traces of desperation making way into his countenance. "What's wrong?"   
  
But James' expression told Sirius he was baffled and devastated.   
  
"That's… I… I don't know," James' voice was strained with suppressed emotions. He reached forward with an unsteady hand, but held it above Harry's shoulder as if he was afraid to touch him. "I… I can't see him."   
  
"What?" Sirius narrowed his eyes, but his stomach plummeted as a sneaking suspicion made its way into his mind. "Harry's dead, isn't he?" he whispered, lightly brushing his fingers over the oddly shaped scar on the child's forehead.   
  
"No," James whispered, gaze not shifting from the bundle in his arms as if struggling to make out the image of his son. "I can't see him because Harry doesn't want me to. You can only see the people you want to see here."   
  
"What do you mean?" Sirius asked distractedly, arm tightening around unresponsive child. "Harry's not responding to anything. I don't think he can even see me. He is…"   
  
"Sirius, if Harry didn't want to see you, then you wouldn't even see him. And people who die do not come here," James smiled again, more sad and wistful. "He must be very attached to you."   
  
Sirius throat was too dry to speak. As if reassuring himself, he ran his fingers through the child's hair steadily. It was strange, carrying Harry when James was right in front of him. Harry didn't even spare James a second glance the moment he was with his godfather. Without his glasses, the world came to him in an indefinite blur. Harry only buried his face deeper against Sirius shoulder as if trying to hide from a stranger. Sirius swallowed uneasily; he couldn't help but wonder what his father felt; it must be like losing his son.   
  
As if reading his thoughts, James cut him off with a pointed stare. "No. Don't remind him, Sirius, not even when you go back. He doesn't need to be constantly haunted by the memories of his dead parents."   
  
Sirius shook his head, his mind on a different track altogether. "James, I…"   
  
He broke off when he felt the slight form stir feebly, a soft moan muffled against his shirt. Harry's eyes flickered, eyelids falling shut as his head dropped against the crook of his neck.   
  
"You have to go," James repeated firmly, tearing his eyes from his son with obvious effort. He took a step back, purposefully distancing himself from them both. "Harry must have really taken a blow before coming here. You may not feel it, but staying here too long damages your physical body. Harry won't be able to withstand it at his age. You have to get him out quickly."   
  
Sirius chewed his lip, trying to make sense of the stray thoughts in his mind but unable to place any into words.   
  
James looked pained for a moment, but he covered it quickly with a forced smile. "Go on, Sirius. You can't stay. You have to at least take Harry back. He's too young to be here."   
  
Sirius glanced at the child huddling against the folds of his shirt, then at James uncertainly. He raked his mind for something so say, anything, to his wronged friend. There were a million things left unspoken, and a million that he had yet to explain.   
  
"James, I'm really sorry," was all he could say. Those were foolish parting words to his friend.   
  
"I could forgive you a million times and you still won't believe me" James murmured sadly, expression slipping into one of resignation, a shadow passing over his eyes. "Be a father for Harry, okay? Take my place for him and take good care of him."   
  
  
  
*   
  
_  
  
This was the scene when Sirius was showing Harry his room, but it ended up being so depressing that I cropped it. The epilogues were suppose to be light-hearted, unfortunately, my brain wasn't in the light hearted gear at the time. *sigh* I haven't exactly posted the epilogues yet, but this scene was changed so it shouldn't spoil it too much. _  
  
"But it can't be mine," Harry whispered shakily, pulling his knees close against his chest in an attempt to touch as little of the blankets as possible.   
  
Sirius sighed softly, brushing a few strands of hair from the child's face. "It is. This is your room. Everything in here belongs to you, and if you want anything, just tell me and I'll get it for you."   
  
"But… is it really okay?" Harry worriedly asked. "What if I break something? You'd be angry! I… it can't be mine!"   
  
Sirius' expression fell, his previous happiness shattered. Harry desperately wished he could take those words back, but those fears spilled from him before he could hide them. To be such a burden, Harry wanted to disappear. He shook his head, edging off the bed fearfully. But Sirius caught him before he stumbled to the floor, peering into his face with concern.   
  
"Harry, that's not true. I will never be angry with you," Sirius whispered, giving the child's shoulder a small squeeze of assurance.   
  
Harry let his head drop, gaze downcast. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep that blurred his thoughts, or the many consecutive events that drained him far beyond endurance, Harry began to feel the flickers of desperation again. He was suddenly seized by a fear that Sirius would realize he was worthless, undeserving, and discard him as his relatives had done. He knew it wasn't true; Sirius would never abandon him. He was wanted, he had a family, but…   
  
"Harry, what's wrong? What is it? You… you're crying…" Sirius carefully removed the child's glasses, brushing at the edges of his eyes lightly.   
  
With a jolt, Harry realized that he was. His vision was blurred and his throat stung, there was a weight that seemed to be compressing his lungs. He had been feeling that so often after he soaked Sirius' shirt and cried himself to sleep days ago. Just a memory, a thought, a fear would bring the prickling to the back of his throat, and he would have to hold his breath to suppress it. It was so strange, this never happened in the past. Crying never solved anything, he knew that. It just made Uncle Vernon angrier; he hadn't cried for years. But after he cracked in the infirmary, it was as if something within him snapped and all those years of suppressed frustrations were spilling out. Harry turned his face away jerkily, scrubbing at his eyes with a sleeve, embarrassed and ashamed.   
  
"Sorry," Harry gasped out, swallowing sobs. "I… didn't mean… Sorry…!!"   
  
Sirius suddenly seemed sad again, his lips thinning into a line and his eyes clouding. Soothingly, he stroked the child's hair.   
  
"What's bothering you, Harry?" he asked quietly.   
  
That comforting gesture seemed to tear at Harry more. Halting, he shook his head, impulsively reaching for his godfather's sleeve and holding it in a death grip.   
  
"I don't know! I just think about something… and then…" Harry scrubbed at his eyes again, and when the tears still came, covered his face with his hands. "It never happened before… I… what's wrong with me?"   
  
Sirius was silent for a moment, patting the child's back in a calm, peaceful lull. "It's okay. You're just being a child," he said finally.   
  
  
  
*   
  
  
  
This isn't nearly as many drafts I did, I just chose the more significant ones. I have about 1.5 megs worth of drafts on my hard drive that I can't bring myself to delete *sigh*   
  
umm... I attempted fanart. It's on the website, set in a WS timeline. ack! I think I'm getting attached to WS in general... not good!   
  
oh a side note, remember the comment about Sirius' reaction to when Harry starts dating, Rainbow? Anyway, that spurred my muse onto something, and I might write a mini oneshot in the WS timeline about it. It's strictly humor, since Giesbrecht says that my writing is depressing. but it's going to be really weird...   
  
ack, can't reply to any of those reviews today. Harp lessons in half an hour... *wails*   
  
thank you all so much for giving me your thoughts and opinions. I do read every single review! It's great to know that WS has been liked, despite all my reservations on some issues, you all received it wonderfully. And you all had to listen to me whine and protest about junk, I'm sure I was very annoying. And then the awful joke that I played, and ffNET dying at the worst possible time at the worst possible cliffhanger, ack! It was a big surprise how well WS was received, considering it was an alternative universe with a very compact plot and cast (all in all, there were only about 4 characters, Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, and Harry). Plus, the idea of Sirius recusing Harry from an abused home is often used, and I was sort of afraid that it would be another repeat. But the idea was too tempting. It's great that you enjoyed it. Thank you so much for your support! I would never have managed to finish this story if it wasn't for all of you!   
  



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